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LORDS AND LADIES 


CHAPTER 1. 

HOW THE CAUSE FOR A CHALLENGE AROSE BETWEEN “THE LORDS AND THE 
LADIES,” AS A CLOUD OP SMOKE. 

“ Depend upon it, squire, there is neither peace nor comfort to be had in a house 
overrun by petticoats I ” 

Pour pairs of ears heard this sweeping censure on the female sex — made by the 
mouth belonging to a fifth pair — which pair ought to have blushed for that mouth. 

Did any reply? Notone. 

There must have been a solid — a convincing — an incontestable reason for this lack 
of gallantry. 

The speaker, and the four hearers, had been politely requested by their hostess, as 
she left the dinner-room followed by her troop of ladies, to refrain from smoking. It 
is true she was a very pretty woman ; it is true she made the request in her sweetest 
voice and most engaging manner. It is also true, and not to be denied by one of the 
lords of the creation present, that she (one of the “ ladies,” who are allowed to “ will” 
and to “ won’t,” merely because they “ will and won’t,” without giving any reason for 
so doing), absolutely did point out her new summer curtains (just put up) as an apology 
for the request ; very fresh and spotless they looked too, as none could deny. 

As all tidy, home-loving, home glorifying queens of households are allowed to feel at 
one of those advents of domestic bliss — a thorough house-cleaning — so did she revel 
and rejoice in the dainty spruceness of her kingdom. They had seen her (and applauded 
her) only that day, as she challenged the world to find spot or blemish, an atom of dust 
or the miuutest spider, in the domestic palace to which she welcomed them so warmly. 
They had watched her, had admired her, glowing with gratified pride, as she walked 
through her beautiful and fragrant house. 

She may (we will not deny it), she certainly may, under the influence of this most 
pardonable of all vanities, have demanded their forbearance rather than beseeched it. 

The human heart, under the best control (as we all know by experience), has its 
unguarded moments. No doubt we have each of us felt what it is to be moved from 
our pedestal of moral altitude by the complacent whisperings of a duty well done. 

Vanity assails us at such moments from a quarter so unexpected, that we are knocked 
down without a warning. Thus it may be that, glorying in her garnished and elegant 
house, Mrs. Joscelyn forgot that she owed allegiance to the king of it. But he did not. 
Was he not a lord of the creation? 

lie is the squire apostrophized in the first sentence of this veracious tale, and usually 
a human creature of much urbanity, cheerfulness, and contentment. That is when the 
nerve Opiniatum had not been touched. Very few anatomists have noticed, or rather 
honored this nerve by mentioning it. Yet it runs in distinguishable lines from the 
brain to the feet — ramifying through the whole frame. In some subjects it overpowers 
and wholly subjugates every other nerve in the body. Again, in others, it is barely 
perceptible. In the female organization it is less developed than in the male ; which 
may be one reason why anatomists care so little to mention it. For it is not a good 
nerve, or of any manner of use. On the contrary, it is often a source of much discom- 
fort to its owner, and frequently places him, or her, in positions neither comfortable 
nor creditable. Th”.*’ In the female, if it remains only in the brain, a ad does not spread 
towards the heart, tiie quirks, vagaries, and inconsistencies of its unfortunate owner 
wear and tear her other nerves all to pieces, as well as the nerves of those with whom 
she lives. She is like a balloon without ballast ; a ship without a crew ; a windmill 
shorn of its grapnel. 

In the male species, this nerve seldom approaches the region of the heart, but is so 

3 


4 


lords and ladies. 


intricately mixed up with every other part of the body, that the slightest touch starts 
it into instant life ; and, during the time it quivers and lives, the reasoning faculties, 
the moral powers, the higher virtues, succumb before it. ^ i i 

The squire was born with this nerve strongly developed ; it had been lostered ana 
encouraged by education and position. He was one of those rare individuals born in 
this val^of tears, who had never had any occasion to lament it. lie was rich, having 
enough to enjoy every reasonable pleasure in life, in a reasonable manner. He w\as 
jovia? in temperament, which enabled him to enjoy his riches ; he was also fine-hearted, 
which gave him the chiefest happiness of all, namely, the desire to make others assist 
him to spend them. He was a happy husband, a fond father, a staunch friend. He 
lived without care, he had never experienced sorrow, but — he had the nerve 
Opiniatum. 

His personal appearance deserves description. He was a well-made, handsome man, 
and, without being the least vain, he w’alked about and through the world with that 
air which says, “ You may look at me, from head to foot, within and without, and you 
will discover a man who is not ashamed of himself, either personally, mentally, or 
morally.” 

And nobody saw him without agreeing to this opinion; he was, in all respects, “ a 
proper man.” His bright florid complexion bore the marks of having been kissed by 
the summers of forty years. His merry blue eyes twinkled and danced as if a jovial 
spirit lurked within their clear azure. His handsome nose rose straight between them 
in a certain majesty of form, as if, by conscious dignity, to curb the “laughing devil” 
peeping out in the eyes. A short upper-lip began a well-formed mouth and chin. 

His well-shaped head was furnished with clusters of rebellious rings of fair hair, 
short and crisp. His chest, magnificently developed, expanding in kindliness to all the 
world, was supported on firm, well-shaped legs, whose shapely feet had that elastic 
tread which belongs to the healthy, wealthy, and contented among mankind. 

Such was the squire — to which must be added that he w'as faultlessly dressed in the 
evening costume of an English gentleman of the present day. 

But at this present moment he is not looking his best. A frown sits upon his brow, 
an unusual visitant; so unusual, indeed, that one can hardly think it is the squire sit- 
ting before us. He is biting the nail of the thumb of his right hand, an act of which 
he has the greatest abhorrence (in another), from his own often-expressed conviction 
that it is an “ ungentleraanly trick.” 

But the fact is, he does not in the least know what he is about ; a sudden pressure of 
the nerve Opiniatum has, for once, got possession of him, physically and mentally. 
Will it conquer him? If it does, my story is at an end. Fortunately (I hope) for my 
readers, his companions are in league with the nerve Opiniatum. 

They must be described. 

Let us begin with the only one who has yet spoken — he who uttered that unjust, 
base, never-to-be-forgiven calumny upon petticoats. 

He is tall, spare, not ill-made ; in fact, he has a good figure, well-knitted together, 
which is a virtue in him that must be accorded, as it is about the only thing there was 
to praise in him ! 

As regards age, he was quite as old as the squire, though no petticoat was ever 
more weak in allowing the fact. In short, he did not allow it. If all his subterfuges, 
all his evasions, all his barefaced — let us say “ fibs,” as the mildest mode of recording 
his utter disregard of truth on the subject — his tremendous “fibs” were collected 
together, and placed before a dispassionate jury, composed of equal parts of both 
sexes, I feel sure he would gain the day over the weake^ woman that ever lived. 

But I don’t wish to be hard upon him ; inasmuch as nature herself has not been too 
kind, as must be acknowledged by unprejudiced parties when they read the description 
of him. 

Thin, wiry hair, with no color at all, was plastered over that part of his cranium 
which time had cruelly, inexplicably made bare, giving a very meagre appearance to a 
skull that was already remarkable for an oddity of shape and strange deficiency in in- 
tellectual bumps. 

Little reddish greenish eyes blazed out from beneath such bushy brows, it was inev- 
itable the thought that some of their luxuriance would be well bestowed a little higher 

up. 

His face was wholly made up of puckers, which concentrated themselves into a focus 
— his nose. And as if contented to form the base of that wonderful feature, the rest 
of it was a round shining knob, on which bloomed, with ever-varying tints, according 
to heat and frost, port wine or none, all the bright shades of the rose. 

His mouth resembled the withered puncture of an old apple, and his chin was never 
free from the marks of the rough usage of an unkind razor. 

His dress was not too costly, and utterly without taste, both of which might have 
been forgiven had he attended to those little niceties of the toilet which mark the 
true gentleman. 


THE CAUSE FOR A CHALLENGE. 


5 


^ For, to say nothing of a little eccentricity as to the neecllessness of absolute sno’svy 
linen, or the necessity of washing his hands too often, his general appearance was 
always more or less of a spo'rting character. Even in a ballroom (where, strange to 
say, he always appeared, and always in a chronic state of grumbling and growling), 
his general aspect was such that strangers have often taken him for some respectable 
game-keeper, who had wandered into the ballroom by mistake in his Sunday suit. 

This passion for balls always excited in those friends who were honored with his 
confidence the greatest surprise. He began to grumble the moment one was mooted ; 
he grumbled through the difierent phases of the first question of how, when, and where, 
to the moment when the fiy arrived to take him to it. He grumbled all the time he 
was at it, though he generally came with the fiddlers and went out with the candles. 

“ Why did he go ? ” urged his friends and admirers, if he had any. 

Nobody knows, unless it was the pressure of the nerve Opiniatum. ' 

This nerve had the individual and entire possession of the body and soul of Captain 
Crabshawe. 

It is needless to say he was a bachelor. Unlike Squire Joscelyn, Avho lost his tem- 
per and bit his right thumb nail when his nerve was touched. Captain Crabshawe only 
felt happiness when his whole frame was quivering. Consequently, upon this evening 
the bloom upon the round knob that did duty for his nose was spreading with becoming 
radiance over his whole face, suflusing into one the various little efflorescences that 
adorned his countenance. 

On his right hand, sat a pleasant, unremarkable-looking man, who, apparently aware 
that fate had accorded him no striking physiognomy, had endeavored to repair the mis- 
take by art. His collar was turned down, which, so far from giving him a poetic or 
ByroAic look, merely enabled his friends to see that he was rather fat about the throat. 
His hair, oily and smooth, was parted down the middle, and, turning abruptly round, 
sent the ends into the corners of his eyes, making them wdnk and appear tender. This 
mode of dressing the hair, styled the “ intellectual,” had not the effect of imparting 
much wisdom to the countenance of Mr. Spooner. On the contrary, he resembled one 
of those comfortably-clad, turnip-fed, and turnip-loving sheep, wfflose equable minds 
are disturbed neither by the dog of yesterday, nor by the prospect of becoming mutton 
to-morrow. 

Hd had a splendid pair of whiskers — that his bitterest enemy allowed — which, be- 
sides being so bushy and excellent of their kind, afforded him a great deal of amuse- 
ment, not to say help. For no matter what he was doing, in his office at the bank, 
where he, a junior partner, was signing away thousands perhaps, receiving in millions 
probably — at home, in dressing-gown and slippers, reading a novel — in the park — 
sprucely dressed at dinner, imbibing soup — after dinner smoking a cigar — in all and 
each of these duties, each important in its way, his whiskers were taken hold of, drawn 
out, minutely scanned sideways, and consulted on every occasion. In short (let us make 
the remark without ill-nature), generally a man is spoken of as a “man with whiskers.” 
In Mr. Spooner’s case, it would only be doing justice to his if we said, “ whiskers with 
a man,” or a “lord of the creation.” 

He was not very tall, not very clever, not very anjdhing, yet he had the natural and 
much-to-be-commended desire to be everything. So he had a smattering of this thing, 
a slight knowledge of that, a sort or inkling of a metaphysical kind, which puzzled him, 
more than any one else. He dabbled in politics, flirted with scandal, and trified with 
characters. In a word, he had a most ardent desire to be thought clever and intellec- 
tual, and, in strict truth, he was an amiable, simple noodle of a man, without any char- 
acter at all. 

He was unexceptionable in dress and manner generally, but sometimes, when strain- 
ing after inspiration, he was apt to forget the latter. He could very well have borne to 
be handsomer, more manly, more dignified, but then, like the Dodo, he would have had 
less excuse to look as if he was mourning over his deficiencies. His soul aspired to be 
great, but his body was only fitted for great things moderately developed. The nerve 
Opiniatum was so slightly demonstrated in him, it may be questioned if it could be per- 
ceived further than in the female subject. 

Mr. Spooner was a married man. He had experienced that happy state exactly six 
months. He was just entering that dangerous flux of the tide matrimonial, w’herein a 
sort of maelstrom ensues, from the vortex of which are thrown up all the bits of the 
barque of happiness — the vessel in which he had set sail on the voyage of matrimony. 
How many of these bits he and his wife could save from the wreck, it is not our busi- 
ness to inquire. We only know, the more they could collect the safer and more pleasant 
would be their voyage together hereafter. 

From the circumstances under which he and his wife had begun that interest in each 
other which ended in matrimony, it was not unreasonable to fear that some few storms 
would assail their first start in life’s voyage, ere they sailed amicably together for the 
rest of it. The germ of their first interest in each other arose out of the discovery that 
their initials were the same— A. S. — Augustus Spooner, Arabella Strutt. 


6 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


This led to remarks — remarks brought on consequences — consequences ended in 
matrimony, and Mr. and Mrs. Spooner were now undergoing the ordeal of testing their 
love for each other by something more tangible than the fond fantasy of jointly owning 
two letters in the alphabet. At the first onset of their matrimonial career they laid 
themselves open, be it whispered, to the privilege of having another S added to the 
first. This phase over, the reaction was great the other way. Dropping the character 
of an adoring lover, and taking up that of a comfortable lazy husband, the male A. S. 
lacerated the heart of his doting wife. 

In foregoing the angelic graciousness of the bride, and adopting the fidgets and fan- 
cies of the wife, the female A. S. was calling forth into life and vigor the nerve Opinia- 
tum of her devoted spouse. Thus is explained (or excused) wherefore two married men 
had neither of them the grace, much less the inclination, to snub Captain Crabshawe for 
his libel upon petticoats. 

It was, therefore, not to be expected that young bachelors should dash to the rescue, 
and transfix the libeller with the sharp lance of indignation, when the older, married, 
experienced, not only declined the pleasing task, but seemed to agree in the base cal- 
umny. • Ko ; they sat silent and thoughtful. 

As the utmost confidence ought to subsist between the writer and the reader, the 
former informs the latter that one of them. Sir George Dollett, Bart., really did think, 
and this was his thought, — 

“ ’Twas deuced hard they couldn’t smoke ! ” 

Sir George was a young gentleman of whom it may be said the species is very com- 
mon. Early spoilt by an adoring mother, and a still more adoring world, he was unable 
to look at a single thing in it according to a plain matter-of-fact view. Naturally he 
was born with a good heart. Ilis propensities were most of them amiable, but such 
were the trammels that surrounded him, he hardly knew he had a heart at all — in fact, 
he had never had any occasion to require one. Everybody loved him, admired him, 
and praised him without. Consequently he was rather vain, a little selfish, and irrevo- 
cably impressed with the idea that every unmarried woman that came into juxtaposition 
wit him was possessed with the fatal and determined idea of becoming Lady Follett. 
“ It was deuced hard to deny them, but positively a choice in the matter he must have 
— really he could not consent to be married by force ! ” 

lie was well-looking — something of a fop, and secretly very anxious to marry. He 
was not strong enough to be possessed of many nerves, so the nerve Opiuiatum was 
wholly undiscoverable in his organization. 

Having confided so much to the reader about Sir George, it now becomes the writer’s 
duty to be equally confidential regarding Mr. Summers. Why do I say Mr. ? No one 
after the second interview ever called him anything but Summers ; and after the third, 
Frank ; after the fourth, Summ, and so on. Shortening, lengthening, mimicking, apos- 
trophizing, and altering after every conceivable fashion his two names — Francis Sum- 
mers. For he was beloved. He, too, was thinking — so deeply, indeed, that I quite 
credit his solemn assertion that he did not hear Captain Crabshawe’s disgraceful libel, 
or he would instantly have challenged him there and then. But he was thinking — it 
was a strange, a bewildering thought, and concerned a brown hat. In the circumfer- 
ence of that brown straw hat, further bounded by the folds of a blue veil, was a sight, 
a view, a vision, that contained for him everything most fair on earth — nothing that 
out of ocean’s treasures she could match, and containing to him almost as much of 
heaven as the blue sky itself. 

Francis Summers was a fair, slight, handsome young fellow of eight-and-twenty years 
of age. Like Sir George, he was an only son, and had a doting mother ; but unlike Sir 
George, these two circumstances rather developed the best feelings of his nature than 
deteriorated them. So far from becoming selfish and vain, he was amiable and modest, 
to a degree that rather interfered with a true judgment of his character. Mr. Spooner’s 
ambition was to be thought better of than he deserved. Frank Summers was satisfied 
with only half the praise that was his due. Thus the one generally disappointed his 
friends, while the latter always surprised them. He had an independent fortune, and 
was known to be in search of a wife. This caused a commotion amongst his friends. 
Either Frank’s bachelor establishment was too pleasant to be done away with, or they 
were so fond of him personally, they could not suffer him and all his amiabilities to be 
absorbed by a wife. 

The squire alone stood his friend in the matter. Captain Crabshawe was vehemently 
opposed to the very idea. 

Mr. Spooner warned him, with deep sighs, to be guarded, very guarded in his choice, 
while Sir George openly demonstrated that, if he did marry, he would only be married 
for his money. 

“ I think I have a better opinion of myself than that,” replied Summers, confidently. 

“ Hear I — hear ! ” had the squire replied. 

“ The vanity of the fellow I ” said Sir George. 


THE CAUSE FOR A CHALLENGE. 7 

“ No, I am not vain, I hope. When I do see a lady I could lote, she shall be satisfied 
that I think more of her happiness than my own.” 

“ And so add one more to the already overwhelming multitude of foolish and spoilt 
wives.” 

Captain Crabshawe was often permitted by his friends to make these sorts of little 
remarks, as it was charitably concluded that he had once had a disappointment, and 
that, in consequence, now “ the grapes were sour.” 

But we must return to the dinner-room, where, long as we have been in describing 
the five friends, still the squire is frowning, still biting unconsciously the nail of his 
right thumb. 

It is a most lovely evening. The windows are as wide open as windows can be. The 
soft evening air, so charming in the early days of June, inflates those summer curtains 
with gentle zephyrs which seem to say, “Though you may not taint Mrs. Joscelyn’s 
chintz with the fumes of tobacco, come out into the garden with us ; come to the harbor 
washed by the waves of the sea. We will play around you, and waft the little pnffies 
of smoke emanating from your cigars, into little grotesque shapes Or they shall as- 
sume an appearance suited to your thoughts, filling your minds with charming reflec- 
tions on the past, the present, and the future. The sea shall sing her everlasting love- 
lay, murmuring it close in your ears — that love-song that the fair earth expands her 
bosom to receive. Close by is the hedge of sweet-brier ; we will hustle through the 
thorny branches, and waft about the fragrant perfume of its leaves, while the roses of 
June shall shed their sweet petals down to your feet.” 

In vain did the zephyrs sing thus. And why? Mrs. Josceljm had said almost the 
same thing, though of course in the matter-of-fact language of the day : “ It will be just 
the evening,” said she, “ to enjoy smoking in the arbor.” 

All very fine, Mrs. Joscelyn, but the nerve does not think it just the evening to do any- 
thing of the sort. The nerve has a dining-room, and the nerve does not see, when it 
has a dining-room, why it need smoke in an arbor, be that arbor ever so desirable. 

So once more rose that harsh sound, half fretful, wholly tuneless — the voice of Cap- 
tain Crabshawe. 

“ Ah, friends, let me tell you, where a man’s comforts are really concerned, women 
are the very devil ” 

“Hold! hold! Captain Crabshawe ! ” exclaimed Summers, startled out of his pleasing 
thoughts regarding the brown hat and blue veil by such a word applied to such beings. 

“ Come, Crabshawe, you are rather too strong; Eliza — I mean Mrs. Joscelyn — is 
about as good a woman as ever lived.” 

“Granted, squire, granted : of course I don’t expect to hear a man abuse his own 
property, of course not; think what you like of her, squire. I am not the man to con- 
tradict you, but at the same time I know Mrs. Joscelyn, I know her little arts, her 
wheedlings ” 

“Pooh — pooh!” interrupted the squire, who was a little touchy on the point of 
supremacy in his household, as w^as natural in a man. “ Pooh — pooh ! a man is not a 
man or a gentleman, if he cannot give way to a woman’s fid-fads when she desires it.” 

“Quite true, squire!” exclaimed Mr. Frank, all in a glow, “what would life be 
worth, had we no opportunity to show our respect, our admiration, our devotion, to 
the other sex.” 

“liespcct! admiration! devotion! Ha! — ha! Summers, you are in love, my boy! 
Yes . Frank, I know it ; don’t deny it — you are a lost creature ! ” 

“ Poor Summers ! ” murmured Mr. Spooner, while Sir George laughed like a mock- 
ing-bird. 

Mr. Snuimers sat down and blushed, as all four pair of eyes were turned full upon 
him. The tquire good-naturedly relieved him from this embarrassing position by say- 
iiig, — 

“ I allow women sometimes take too much upon themselves ” 

“Too much! Squire, by heavens! they take all. Everything must give way to 
their fancies. Doors must be opened for them, as if they were born without hands ; 
chairs must be set for them, as if they had not the sense to sit down of their own 
accord ; errands must be run for them, invented on purpose to suit the backs of those 
poor beasts of burden, men. Money must be found for them, let the husband and 
household starve, provided they are flounced up to the eyes, and smothered in gauze 
bonnets. Eoom must be made for them and their crinolines, until, by George ! there is 
scarcely a corner left in the world for our poor spindle-shanks to bestow themselves.” 

And Captain Crabshawe thrust his out, which were that part of his person the least 
worth looking at. No one replied to this burst of eloquence; so, taking breath and 
courage, he dashed on again : 

“ Think what a world it would be without women ! We should then have room to 
turn round. How we could go anywhere and evei’ywliere, without being smothered 
and upset by steel traps attached to inflated balloons ; how much money we might 
save, which we could spend on sensible things — dogs, guns, horses, shooting moors. 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


8 

and a nice yacht, squire — eli ? ” (The squire’s ambition was a yacht). » I contend that 
nothin" binds us to women but motives of humanity ; they are so weak, so frivolous, so 
generally incapable I that in sheer pity we live with them. But why need they make 
themselves obnoxious as well as troublesome? why interfere with our most trifling 
pleasures? why prevent us the most simple, harmless recreation of smoking?” 

“^pon^my word,” continued the captain, roused by these groans of approbation into 
a lively flow of eloquence and grand ideas, “ what a thing it would be if we could give 
them a lesson, squire. Let us go ofi* for a while — let us leave them to themselves for 
a bit! Yes, squire, let us show ourselves proof against their cajoleries — impervious 
to their attractions, Spooner— blind to their arts, Frank, my boy — wide-awake to 
their intentions. Toilet — and more than all, squire, independent of their presumed 
household virtues ! ” 

“ They are not presumed — Elizabeth is the best ” 

“ We know it ! — we know it ! Pardon the interruption, squire ; but you see a man 
before you who is ready to do all that Mrs. Joscelyn ever did, and much more.” 

“ Knit my socks, for instance 1 ” ^ 

“ Knit ! — of course, I can knit — any fool can knit ; but who wants their socks knitted 
when you can buy them made by a loom that can neither drop stitches nor make mis- 
takes, and for half the money too 1 ” 

“ That is true,” remarked Mr. Spooner. 

Gratified by this show in his favor, the captain proceeded with increased vigor, — 

“ I will darn, mend, and sew on buttons, against any woman living. I say now, 
squire, suppose, just to bring Mrs. Joscelyn to her bearings, to give her a lesson, we 
all took ourselves olf for a time ! I’ll be bound you may smoke in the drawing-room, in 
her boudoir, in your very bed when you return ! ” 

“ She wants a lesson of some sort,” murmured the squire, as if to himself. 

“ I am not sure if a short absence, a want of my manly attentions,” here Mr. Spooner 
drew out his left whisker, as a proof of his possessing one attribute of man, “ would 
not be beneficial to Mrs. Spooner.” 

“lam positive I must be off somewhere,” said Sir George; “for if I stay much 
longer that little Kate Daintree will wheedle me into so serious a flirtation, I shall And 
myself noosed before I am aware. I don’t see how I shall like that ! ” 

“ Then we can rescue Summers,” exclaimed the captain with a frosty attempt at 
beingjovial. 

“'So we can,” they all exclaimed, fixing once more their flill gaze upon that modest, 
unassuming young man. 

A"ain lie blushed to the very roots of his hair, as they all again assured him sepa- 
rately and together, with great heartiness and enthusiasm, that they would do anything 
for his good. 

lie murmured a few words, they might be thanks, but, to judge by his countenance, 
it was much as if ho was thanking some doctor for skilfully taking off his leg. 
lie might be grateful, but it was a gratitude of a very dubious kind. 

‘Nevertheless, they were pleased with it; in fact, it was more than they expected. 

They had all made up their minds to fall into Captain Crabshawe’s scheme, but at the 
same time they were all more or less twitted in their consciences that they should 
adopt it merely because they had not been allowed to smoke in Mrs. Joscelyn’s dining- 
room. There was something rather pettish, not to say silly, in men of their brain and 
capacity, “ Lords of the Creation,” being moved to such an exhibition of temper, as all 
to leave home because they were not allowed to smoke ! 

The nerve Opiniatum in vain protested to the squire it was reason suflicient. It is a 
well-known fact that this nerve can rarely be roused by a man in a man. Touched by 
Mrs. Joscelyn, it would have led the squire by the nose ; she being absent, It was again 
becoming dormant. The squire desired to give his wife a lesson, yet he did not desire 
to be thought a fool in doing so ! 

So it is probable that Captain Crabshawe’s eloquence would all have been wasted but 
for the lucky thought of rescuing the amiable Frank. 

“ I am afraid, my dear boy,” said the squire, “ that if the object of your affections is . 
the young lady I suspect, you would do well to avoid her; she has a temper.” 

“ Don’t mince the matter, squire. It is Clara Severn — and hasn’t she a temper! ” 

“ Miss Severn ! ” exclaimed Mr. Summers, indignantly. 

“ Well, ;Miss Severn, since you are so particular,” admitted Captain Crabshawe. “I 
saw you only yesterday sitting at the Battery Rock with her, and unable to see a single 
thing in the world beyond the rim of her brown hat.” 

Too true! Had he not been thinking of that brown hat all the evening? Ashe 
reiiKmibcrcd the vision seen beneath the brown hat, he forgot to answer, he forgot 
where he was, ho was lost in the remembrance of everything but that delicious hour. 
When he awoke again to what was going on round him, he heard the squire saying, — 


THE CAUSE FOR A CHALLENGE. 9 

“ I don’t wish to go far. There is my darling little Bessie, and if Eliz — Mrs. Jos- 
celyn, should be ill ” 

I will do Mrs. Joscelyn the justice to say, I never heard of her ailing, even a linger 
ache.” 

“True, Crab, she is without exception the best, — or rather, I mean, — I think 
Spooner’s idea a very good one. Lot us start to-morrow.” 

“ I don’t intend to go,” said Frank, aghast at llnding matters so far settled. 

“ Summers ! Frank ! ” exclaimed one and all ; “ why, we are going solely for your good ! ” 
“ I don’t care — I mean to stop at home. I am not offended about the smoking — I 
am very glad we were forbidden to smoke ; I don’t care if I never smoke again.” 

The gentlemen looked at their beloved Frank, and at each other, in dismay. They 
were becoming fast smitten with the scheme, and could not bear the thought of i lilin- 
quishing it. 

“ Come, Frank, don’t be unkind, we merely -vvish to give my wife a lesson.” 

“ She does not require a lesson, she is the best wife I ever saw, squire. I wonder 
you can bear to think of living a day without her.” 

The squire was evidently gratified, but he was consequently the more determined to 
have his own way. 

“ \Ye propose,” said Mr. Spooner, mellifluously, “only to go to one of the islands, my 
dear Frank, just for a short time. You see ladies will become arbitrary, they must have 
a gentle lesson now and then.” 

“ I must go,” interrupted Sir George ; “ I wish to be somewhere for a time, where I 
can breathe and feel safe.” * 

“ Don’t desert us. Summers ; you can surely trust me to do nothing unkind. I mereiy 
wish to go into the drawing-room and say, ‘ Elizabeth, here is a check for fifty pounds. 
I am going oflffor a month, I don’t know where, and I don’t care.’ ” 

“ Squire, dear Mr. Joscelyn, you are hurt, vexed. Wait until to-morrow. Sleep over 
the thought.” 

“ No, Frank, I won’t. I am a man of decision. I have passed my word to Crabshawe, 
and I am going to keep it.” 

“ So have I.” 

“ And I.” 

As Mr. Spooner and Sir George indorsed the squire’s promise, Captain Crabshawe 
blew his nose sonorously. It was the trumpet of victory. 

“ You will be so miserable, Mr. Joscelyn.” 

“ How do you make that out ? Crabshawe, which island shall we choose ? ” 

“ We can hire any one of the three, and there are houses on each,” he answered. 

“ I vote for the one furthest off,” said Sir George. 

“ That is Kibble, and has the light-house on it.” 

“ You will all be miserable,” again said Summers. 

“ No, no, come with us, or you will be the one to be pitied. Taken possession of by ■ 
Clara Severn.” 

“ Captain Crabshawe ! ” 

“ I beg your pardon — Miss Severn. Fifteen miles of water between you and Miss- 
Severn will be the saving of you. Don’t be angry now. I am a man who must have- 
his joke.” 

(Very dull, lugubrious jokes were those of Captain Crabshawe.) 

Come with us. Summers, we only wish to show the ladies we can live without them.’^ ' 
“ I don’t think I can live without them.” 

“ He is lost ! ” exclaimed Sir George. 

“ Undone ! ” sighed Mr. Spooner. 

“ I give him up ! ” said the captain. 

“ I will agree to accompany you on one condition,” said Frank, moved by their varr* 
ous plaints. 

“ Name it — name it — anything to secure you.” 

“ Give me leave to think it over until to-morrow.” 

“ We must allow him this,” said the squire. 

“ I have done with him,” responded the captain, with an attempt at the heroic mood; 
“If he cannot see what we all see, why, he had better stay at home — we shall do bet- 
ter without him.” „ 

“ Tea has been announced three times,” said Mr. .Summers, as if anxious to > put an 
end to the struggle for his company — “ surely we had better go to the ladies.” 

“ There is no need for us to attend their summons sooner than we like. If they are 

unhappy, it is no more than their due ” 

The door having been opened by Mr. Summers in his anxiety, there suddenly pene- 
trated into the room a chorus of merry laughter. The squire stopped short in his 
speech. The latlies appeared to be enjoying themselves, when, in truth, they ought to 
have been just the reverse.” 

“ I shall go and tell Elizabeth,” urged the nerve Opiniatum in the squire. 

Dear reader, let us get there first. 

2 


10 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


CHAPTER IT. 

HOW TH E CLOUD INCREASED^ AND THE CHALLENGE WAS ABSOLUTELY EXCHANGED 
AND ACCEPTED BETWEEN THE “ LORDS ” AND THE “ LADIES.” 


There were five ladies in the drawing-room, as there were five gentlemen in the din- 
ing-room. . ^ , 1 

Mrs. Joscelyn had a peculiar talent for arranging a party. She not only managed 
always to secure a sufiiciency of gentlemen (an Herculean task in most country places), 
but she knew the magic number ten enabled a lady and gentleman to sit alternately next 
each other all round the table — whereas eight or twelve, with the lady of the house 
seated at the head of her table, necessitated two of the same sex to sit side by side. 
Therefore ten was her usual number for a sociable, lively, and enjoyable dinner-party. 
To say that the dinner itself was always of the kind to promote these feelings is un- 



known to smile through its worst phases, when asked to dine at Deepelifis. 

The drawing-room was one of those lovely, fragrant, elegant bowers that at the very 
first glimpse told the male intruder it was sacred to women, and women only, and they 
were only admitted on protest. It was filled with beautiful things, arranged with ex- 
quisite taste. It was not very large or very lofty, but it had little ins and outs — one 
embayed window, the very bower for a flirtation ; two others, large, wide, open, looking 
out on the sea, now silvered with moonbeams. 

There were little statuettes ; there were brackets on the wall ; there was a sprinkling 
of rare china; there were books in every direction; there were mirrors here and there 
— a confiding clock, ticking with gentle music ; chairs of a luxurious, unique, inviting 
shape; sofas in quiet corners, plants in pots placed anywhere — some with fragrant 
blossoms, others with a glorious display of verdant leaves ; there were small tables, 
with accommodation for two — a settee just suited for a few girls to lounge on in happy 
graceful idleness — in short, this room, was a perfect ladies’ bower. And though it 
appeared arranged without the slightest art, not a thing could be displaced that was 
bettered by it. Mrs. Joscelyn, a little proud, as we have acknowledged, of her house, 
was, no doubt, a little vain of her drawing-room. Everybody exclaimed, who entered 
it for the first time — “ Oh ! what a lovely, what a delicious, what a dear room ! ” 

And now we must describe the mistress of it. She is worthy of the room — without 
being a marvellous beauty, she has the sweetest face any one could desire to look at. 
Her brown eyes looked frankly, genially, kindly into yours. Her brown hair, a shade 
lighter than her eyes, rippled all over in lights and shadows, and was gathered be/Jud 
into great thick plaits, that, circling her head, crowned her like a queen. She was tall, 
slight, and graceful. There was nothing so conspicuous about her as to strike imme- 
diately, beyond the genial warmth of her greeting, but insensibly you liked the more 
you looked. New graces broke out in her every time she moved or spoke, demanding 
fresh praises from you, until, at last, no one knew Mrs. Joscelyn without loving 
heartily. 

She is knitting, silently, rapidly — knitting one of the squire’s socks; she does not 
look at her knitting, but is watching three girls grouped on the settee, who are gazifig 
at the moonbeams, kissing the little waves, as they rise up one after another, pouting 
out their round lips, and disappearing as rapidly as they come up. 

Not far from her sits unmistakably the female A. S. As there was nothing remark- 
able about her spouse, so there is nothing remarkable about her, unless it be that tie 
gayety of her dress but ill accords with the melancholy of her countenance. 

She has been sighing heavily and profoundly, so as to cause the ribbons of her cap 
(she thinks it dignified to wear a cap) gathered into a sort of crowd on the top of her 
head, to quiver and rise like the crest of a lively cockatoo. Never still, her rich siUi 
dress is in an incessant state of rustle, and the tinkling of all sorts of jewelry accom- 
panies the sound. The ribbons of her cap are pink, the prevailing color of her dress is 
blue, and she has hustled on to her shoulders a sort of yellow shawl or scarf. Thus 
there is no lack of color about her, except in her face. 

Of the three girls on the settee, one soon discovers herself to be still so much of a 
child as to wear short frocks, but which of the two is that she who owns a brown straw 
hat and blue veil? or that other she who is so determiuately anxious to become Lady 

C OllGuU • 0 

Let the reader guess. 

The elder of the two has a fair face, set in a frame of raven dark hair. There is in- 


THE CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. 


11 


tellect and power expressed in her brow, determination and character in her well-devel- 
oped mouth and chin. She is beautifully made. No sculptor could desire a better 
model — no painter could wish for more dignity and grace. Doubtless there was a 
certain disdain, a haughtiness, a sort of cold iudiflerence in her very attitude as she 
reclined there looking out at the moon, but her companion whispered something to her, 
a smile illumined her face, a blush rose to her cheek— r she became at once human and 
lovable. 

As for that companion, she was a little dainty creature ; she was like all the rose-buds 
in the garden. She was wilful, too, showing thorns as they did ; she pouted her lip, 
then she laughed, anon she was imperious, again coaxing — altogether, she was every- 
thing in a minute, and pretty in all. 

“ Gossip,” she had whispered, “ you are in love. 

“ Pooh, child,!” answered Gossip. 

“ You are — I declare you are I I wish I could love.” 

And the little thing looked overpoweringly pathetic. 

“Wish what, my dear?” asked Mrs. Joscelyn, roused from her thoughts and her 
knitting by the earnestness of the wish. 

“ That I could love.” 

“ Ah ! my dearest girl, wish nothing so fatal. Pray — pray for the coldest heart, the 
hardest nature. To love is to be — miserable.” 

It is needless to say that this sentence was spoken by the female A. S., whose cap 
fluttered up its ribbons, whose dress seemed to rustle out small groans, and whose 
bracelets and ear-rings rang out little tinkles of warning. 

“I think so differently from you, Arabella,” observed Mrs. Joscelyn; “I consider it 
the duty of everybody to fall in love once in their lives. It does them a great deal of 
good, whether the love ends well or ill.” 

“Gracious heavens ! Mrs. Joscelyn, do my ears deceive me? ” 

“ I hope not. Bessie, my dear, I think you must go to bed, the gentlemen don’t seem 
inclined to come in to tea, and it is past nine o’clock.” 

“ But, mamma, I have not wished papa good-night.” • 

“ Give me his kiss, love, and he shall have it when he comes in.” 

Miss Bessie was not proof against that power which Mrs. Joscelyn seemed to possess 
over every one who came near her, namely, to obey her ; she paid her adieux, gave her 
mother half-a-dozen kisses for herself and one for her father, saying, — 

“He deserves no more for being so late,” and immediately took her departure. 

As if about to witness a duel of words between the two elder ladies, the younger 
ones turned to join them. 

“ I repeat what I said before. I add, moreover, that there is no sight more pleasant 
to me than to see a young couple seriously, happily, and devoutly in love with each 
other.” 

“ Ah ! I can remember such a time occurring to me — remember ! it requires no re- 
membrance ! it was but as yesterday, and now ” 

“ Now you are happily married, and to go on love-making would be simply nonsensi- 
cal. I love my husband with quite as much fervor as any wife with whom I am 
acquainted, yet to be perpetually showing it would, seriously inconvenience, I may say, 
annoy him, and make people regard me as more fond than wise.” 

“ And why should such a false state of things exist? Augustus is — was— every- 
thing to me. The whole world were welcome to see my devotion to him ; the whole 
world might know I cared nothing for all within it had I but him. And yet you would 
have me believe that such love as mine, expressed with only half its fervor, would an- 
noy him, and make me look ridiculous.” 

“ I agree with my aunt,” said the least of the two maidens ; “ when I love, if ever I 
love, no one shall see any signs of it but he.” 

“ He ! ” laughed her gossip — “ is not he. Sir George Follett? ” 

“ By no means, gossip. I must, before I love at all, have some one that will love 
me, and not himself. Now, charming as I think myself, I have not yet arrived at that 
consummation of vanity, as to suppose that the person you have named thinks of me 
in preference to himself I ” 

“ I think you are hard on Sir George, little pet ; I consider he has a good heart.” 

“Oh! you think well of everybody, dear Aunt Elizabeth, and have such kind eyes, 
they discover virtues where we see only defects. If that gentleman has a heart, which 
is what I have never been able to discover, I am glad you approve of it.” 

“ I consider him utterly selfish and vain, like all men.” 

“ Now I rise up, Mrs. Spooner, and say, not all men.” 

“ Clara, you blush as you say it — poor girl ! poor, poor girl ! you are like a moth flut- 
tering about the candle.” 

“ She has not burnt her wings yet, neither shall she, while I am by ! ” exclaimed the 
little one, hotly. 

“ Or I either,” added Mrs. Joscelyn. “ Come, Clara, let us put you on a confessional. 


12 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


You have now been with me two months, during which time I have seen you the object 
of much attention from one person. Indeed, so much so, that your names arc being 
coupled toiiether. 1 have observed that lately you are looking a little anxious — is there 
anything I can do, as I would for my little Bessie, that may end the matter one way or 

No?my kind fi'iend, nothing. If I have looked anxious, it is more because I feel 

that a crisis is impending over me ^ 

“ Avoid it. Clara — don’t be tempted. Amiable as Mr. Summers is, men are all de- 
ceivers ever ! ” 

“I t-irow down my glove for him ! ” exclaimed the rose-bud : “he has but one fault - - 


^^“^There^aSfmie or two causes for that,” said Mrs. Joscelyn; “ the first one, I think, 
proceeds from Clara herself; she is a little shy and proud.” 

“ it is true — I feel so. The more I am interested, the less I show it. An orphan so 
long, left so much to myself, every thought repressed rather than encouraged, I hardlv 
knew what it was to express any feeling until I lived with you all.” 

“ This makes Mr. Summers, though he has long ago made up his mind as to his own 
feelings, hang back a little, so that you may have ample time to probe your heart.” 

“No,” interrupted Mrs. Spooner, “it is not that; it is that odious Crabshawe — 
Crabshawe is the ruin of all the young bachelors about the place, and the destruction 
of all the married men.” 

“ You credit him wish a vast deal more power than I do,” said Mrs. Joscelyn. 

“ I scarcely think I would stoop to enter the lists with him,” remarked Clara, assum- 
ing her most disdainful air. 

“ I have been thinking it would amuse me to get up a fiirtation with Captain Crab- 
shawe,” observed Kate. 

“ By way of making Sir George jealous, Kate?” 

“ That would be fun I But I will tell you what would annoy Sir George the most, 
and that is, for all of us to go away, and leave him to the tender mercies of Captain 
Crabshawe.” * 

“ Let us go to one of the islands out there, looking so lovely in the moonlight. Will 
you take me and my little gossip, Mrs. Joscelyn? ” 

“Ah! how exquisite! — do consent my dear friend, and let me accompany you. 
Away from Augustus, he might remember other days, and happier times, and re- 
pent ” 

“ You do not any of you know wdiat you are talking about. Not a quarter of an hour 
ago, Arabella, you were sighing and bewailing because the gentlemen were so long in 
the dining-room. Clara has all but acknowledged she is in love, and Katie is dying to 
get Captain Crabshawe into a fiirtation, and yet you have all the conscience to ask mo 
to carry you off to an island, away from them. However, I consent. You will beseech 
me to bring you back in two days.” 

“ No, we will promise to stay a whole week. Aunt Elizabeth; I think it will do the 
gentlemen a great deal of good to lose us for a while. There is my uncle. Eond as I 
am of him, oh ! my goodness me ! how he scowled as we all left the dinner-room.” 

“ That was because I begged them not to smoke ; I ought to have asked him pri'^.a^ e- 
ly, and not before his company.” 

“ And would you really humor him as much as that, Mrs. Joscelyn? As a gentleman, 
he ought to have submitted at once. I dare say that is why they remain so long in the 
dimicu-roora ; Augustus is always ready to take the part of a man against his wife ! ” 

“ And Captain Crabshawe is not behindhand. Gossip, suppose Mr. Summers ” 

“ I will suppose nothing, Kate. Mr. Summers has not committed himself with me, 
and is still free to chose whichever society pleases him best.” 

“ There’s a moth with singed wings for you, Mrs. Spooner — she is not hurt yet! 
But, seriously, dearest, sweetest, kindest auntie, what fun it would be to leave them 
all!” 


“ You are a little monkey, how can I oblige you? My husband would not bear his 
home for a day without me : not that I say so out of vanity, but it is absolutely neces- 
sary to his happiness that he should have some one to call to, to shout at, to consult 
with, to scold, or to pet; to joke with, to confide in — in fact, he is so gregarious, he 
can do nothing unless he has some one to see him do it, or to help him.” 

“ He can have Captain Crabshawe.” 

“ I wish you would consent, I want to give Augustus a lesson.” 

“ I really can hardly help laughing at the notion. How astonished they would look ! ” 
“Ha! ha!” laughed all the ladies; and as we know, dear reader, at a most uupro- 
pitious moment for their ill-timed hilarity, _made itself heard in the dinner-room. 
Before it had well ceased, the squire, followed by all the gentlemen, made his tardy 
appearance in the drawing-room ; the frown on his face having a marked character of 
indignation about it, which was equally the characteristic Cif the expression of three 
others. 


THE CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. 


13 


Mrs. Joscelyn was usually a woman of mucli tact, but this evening, not aware liow 
seriously she had offended — something hurt in her turn at their long absence, yet also 
merry in her heart at the island notion — she took no heed to frowns or signs. 

“ John,” she said flippantly, j'es flippantly, if such a word can be applied to her, “lit- 
tle Bessie has gone to bed and sent you this.” 

And she blew him a kiss, with an air the most nonchalant that can be conceived. 

The nerve Opiniatum quivered from head to heel. So sudden and sharp was its 
spring into action, that for a time speech was denied the squire. Not that he had ex- 
pected to find the ladies in tears, though they ought to have been, considering ail 
things, but accustomed to feel that their manly wishes were the barometer that should 
control them, — having implicit faith in that mysterious sort of perception that the 
female mind knew exactly when to be merry or when to be sad, when to take liberties 
or be submissive, when to reign rampant or humbly obey, — it was astonishing tiie 
effect of this laughter, this “ deuce-may-care,” this audacious blowing of kisses. It was 
just as if he was mocked ! 

Now, it is well understood by all those wise people who have been at infinite pains to 
make psychological discoveries, that there is a vast difference, mentally and person- 
ally, between a male and a female biped. 

We were pretty sure of this before, but still it is highly satisfactory to have the testi- 
mony of learned people to corroborate us in the idea that a man is always serious in 
whatever he undertakes, while a woman is never serious until a man makes her so. 

Thus as we, dear reader, know, the gentlemen had discussed their grievances with a 
gravity and power of thought worthy the occasion, while the ladies had lightly laughed 
and gossipped, heedless of the signs of the times. 

The gentlemen had entered the drawing-room big with the important subject of their 
discussion, the ladies were tittering and giggling over the frivolity of theirs, utterly 
regardless of a precipice before them. 

It is needless to say, they brought their own fate upon themselves ; at the same time, 
they must be excused, as they did not know they had seriously offended. 

Meantime the squire is about to speak. What he did say was, and in rather a strong 
rude voice, — 

“ I won’t drink cold tea.” 

“ This is just made for you, John ; ours had been made an hour.” 

It was prettily said, accompanied by a pretty look — part surprise that he could think 
she would give him cold tea, and part reproof that he should speak so loud in her 
drawing-room. 

The squire was a just man; he felt her surprise was pardonable, she had never as yet 
given him cold tea, and he ought to have waited until she had done so to find fault. But 
her reproof — what right had she to dictate to him how he was to speak? Was he to 
have no peace anywhere in his own house? Not allowed to smoke in his own dining- 
room, ordered to modulate his voice to a certain pitch in his own drawing-room — he 
had better not live in the house at all, if he was to be bullied and badgered at every 
turn. 

“ Mrs. Joscelyn, I am going away to-morrow — alone.” 

“ Are you, John?” says she (pause, Mrs. Joscelyn, everything hangs upon these un- 
spoken words of yours ; she doesn’t pause, woman-like she dashes on) “ we were just 
talking of the same thing.” 

And, still amused in her mind at the idea, Mrs. Joscelyn accompanied these words 
with a smile. 

Perhaps the words might have been forgiven, but the smile never. For when Mrs. 
Joscelyn did smile, it was by no means a furtive affair — she smiled with her lips, her 
eyes, whole face, dimples coming and going according to the force of the smile. 

The die was cast. From that moment the nerve Opiniatum gained entire possession 
of the squire, and Keason, Precaution, and Prudence vacated their thrones. 

We will leave Mr. and Mrs. Joscelyn to fight it out, and place ourselves behind the 
soih occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Spooner. 

“ I hope you have enjoyed each other’s company ; one would suppose you cared for 
none other by the length of time you have been in the dining-room.” 

“We were discussing a most important matter.” 

“No doubt — the price of cigars, or who could smoke the greatest number.” 

“I assure you, Arabella ” 

“ Arabella, indeed ! I remember the time when it was Belle — my Belle ” 

“ Well, Belle, my love, it had nothing to do with cigars.” 

He paused, conscious that he was unconsciously telling a fib. 

“ Oh ! don’t tell me — something equally foolish ; hunting, perhaps — or the diflerence 
between a brown and a bay horse.” 

“ Not horses at all, dear Belle.” 

“The fight, then; and you call yourself a gentleman ! Oh! Augustus, it is all that 
Captain Crabshawe — he began to talk to me about Heavite and Sting.” 


14 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


Mr. A. S. (laughing) — “ Heenan and King, ray dear love.” . . . , 

The terra of endearment was lost in the laugh. Like the squire, ridicule cut into her 

mental organization as a knife into her bodily frame. .... « « . 

“ Don’t mock me, sir. I thank goodness I am not acquainted with any of your nsti- 

cuffers.” 

“ I thank goodness, too — I don’t wish you to know them, even by name. • 

Mrs. (mollified)— “ Then, may I ask what kept you so long in the dinner- room? ” 
The question thus clearly put, Mr. Spooner felt puzzled to answer. Like men of his 
stamp, w^orthy good creatures, and invaluable in their way, as are the fleecy flock, he 
did not see why he should take upon his mild, peaceful shoulders the onus of the pres- 
ent state of affairs. . ^ « 

“ It was the squire ; he was not pleased about — about the smoking, you know. Belle. 

“ As if any fool could not see that ! He frowned on Mrs. Joscelyn like an ogre.” 

“ So we stayed longer that we should have done.” 

“ Of course ! not that we wanted you — we were very happy without you — indeed, 
so happy, that we think of going away — of leaving you, of living by ourselves a while.” 
Mr. A. S. (alarmingly astonished). — “ Why, Arabella? ” 

“ Don’t Arabella me, sir ! ” 

“But, Arabella ” 

“ Will you insult me ? ” 

“ By heavens, Arabella ! ” 

Mrs. A. S. (in her turn alarmingly astonished). — “ Augustus, you have been drinking 
too much wine ! ” 

“ And you have been listening at the dinner-room door.” 

Let us draw a veil over the rest of this conversation. In the first place, ’tis not man- 
ners to listen to a matrimonial squabble ; and in the second place, we can perfectly 
guess what ensued. 

Five people are seated on or near the settee, close to the open window. Miss Dain- 
tree and Sir George nearly dos-a-dos. Miss Severn on a little stool just outside the 
window; Captain Crabshawe standing up before them both, his arm firmly linked in 
the arm of Mr, Summers. It required no efibrt of the imagination to conjecture that 
Captain Crabshawe had a mutinous subject by the arm, and meant to hold fast on to him, 
dangerous enemies being in sight. These dangerous enemies he resolved to do battle 
with at once. 

“ We are afraid, really, that our presence causes you some annoyance, ladies.” 
“People are not usually annoyed at nothing. Captain Crabshawe.” 

“ Ah, well. Miss Daintree,” continued her unconscious victim ; “lam glad you have 
the justice to own it is nothing, though, of course, you cannot expect us to be of the 
same opinion. Let me tell you, ’tis no joke to thwart a man — a man is a being. Miss 
Daintree, who loves and has a right to have his own way. A man likes quiet, peace, 
worn ” 

“ And a place to smoke in,” interrupted Miss Daintree. 

“ Very good — very good — I am glad you allow that, though, unfortunately, all are 
not of j'our opinion. And because all are not of jour opinion, we think of going away 
— leaving you.” 

“ Oh ! how nice ! — Clara, do you hear? now we can go to one of the islands by our- 
selves.” 

“ But we are going to the islands.” 

“You cannot live on all of them at once. There is Kibble, andPuflf, andLuflT, besides 
the little Nid.” 

“ But why do you want to go to an island? ” 

“ To be somewhere out of the way of the smell of tobacco.” 

Hardly believing his ears, and infinitely puzzled as to the extraordinary fact that the 
ladies had been planning a scheme, the counterpart of that of the gentlemen. Captain 
Crabshawe inadvertently let go the arm of his prisoner, and sat down by Miss Daintree 
to get this mysterious matter explained. 

“ That’s a dear creature — come and sit by me, and we will have ever so much of an 
argument.” 

More wonderment still — she had called him a “ dear.” He did not ever remember 
to have been so affectionately addressed before. The sensation was pleasant, decidedly 
pleasant — he would like to hear it again. 

“ Anything to please you. Miss Daintree.” 

“ Good gracious ! turn your face round — was it Captain Crabshawe that spoke ? It 
is — well ! wonders will never cease ! ” 

“ Is there anything odd in what I have said? ” 

“ Oh, dear, yes ! it is so odd that you should have said a civil thing to a woman — 
nob^y will believe me if I tell them; they will say I am the vainest little creature.” 

they will say what is untrue. As far as I know to the contrary, I should say* 
Miss Damtree, you had as little vanity as any woman I know.” 


THE CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. 


15 


“ That is not saying much, considering how you hate our sex — but thank you all the 
same, Captain Crabshawe.” 

^ “ She might have said “dear,”’ thought that worthy to himself; “she is a pretty 
little thing — I don’t think Follett is worthy of her.” 

“ Can’t you make room for me in front. Crab,” asked that young gentleman in an 
aggrieved tone. 

“ Oh I dear no. Sir George, my crinoline wants the room of three, and Captain Crab- 
shawe has not over-much to spare. Have you, now?” 

“ What a fool the girl is ! ” thought Sir George. 

“Nice little thing,” thought the captain, “ she prefers me.” 

When vanity assails a man, he has the disease worse than any female. With his odd 
shaped head spinning with unusual sensations, and his whole soul bent upon making 
pretty little Miss Daintree call him “ dear ” again. Captain Crabshawe was wholly ob- 
livious to the escape of his prisoner, and the disappearance simultaneously of Miss 
Severn. 

“ Now tell me all about it — are you all going to the island, and how long shall you 
stay there ? ” 

“ Yes, Miss Daintree, I am happy to say we are unanimous — we all go, and we mean 
to stay at least a month ! ” 

“ Only a month ! I hope Aunt Elizabeth will not think it necessary to come home 
because my uncle does.” 

“ Miss Daintree, are you serious in your intentions to go to an island? ” asked Sir 
George. 

“Yes, to the full as serious as you.” 

“ You will be bored.” 

“ Pardon me, you will be bored.” 

“ How ? — how ? Now, Miss Daintree, how do ynu make that out? ” 

“ Well, Captain Crabshawe, who is to mend your gloves? ” 

“ I shall.” 

“ Sew on your buttons? ” 

“ I will sew on buttons against any woman living.” 

“ Order your dinners ? ” 

“ Pooh ! — pooh ! do you think we are fools ? ” 

“Keep your house tidy? ” 

“ There is not a woman living so tidy as me.” 

“ But still you will be dull; you will have no one to scold, no one to quarrel with.” 
“ That’s the very reason we go — we men love peace and quiet — we will give up 
everything to have that comfort,” 

“ And unlimited smoking. Well, but. Captain Crabshawe, let you and me be serious. 
I will make a bet with you. If we go to one island, and you to another, I will bet you 
a new hat to a new bonnet, that you not only tire of it the soonest, but that you quarrel 
the most.” 

“ That is my opinion,” said Mrs. Joscelyn, coming forward. 

“And mine,” sighed Mrs. Spooner, emerging from a corner with rather red eyes. 
The squire uttered a wrathful “ Pooh ! pooh I ” 

Captain Crabshawe burst into an indignant denial. 

Mr. Spooner bridled and tried to be angry ; while Sir George seized the only oppor- 
tunity he had, and whispered over the settee, — 

“ Miss Daintree, oblige me, don’t go to this island,” and then he drew back, abso- 
lutely shuddering at the rashness of his proceeding. If she did oblige him, he should 
have, he supposed, to make her an offer. There was no escape for him. Yes — he is 
saved. 

“ It is very wicked of me. Sir George, but I am so fond of obliging myself. And be- 
sides, this is my scheme — mine was the brilliant idea. But come. Captain Crabshawe, 
is it a bargain ? You have not accepted my bet.” * , 

“ Miss Daintree, I am willing to stake one hundred pounds on the trial.” 

“ How nice ! — what shall I buy with that hundred pounds? Something pretty for 
you, certainly. Captain Crabshawe. One of the new fashionable ties; or a dozen 
bottles of eau de Cologne, or perhaps a ring. It is but fair you should have your 
choice.” 

Naughty little creature I It is hard to say which she enjoyed most — befooling the 
captain, or ignoring the Baronet — but, as she said afterwards, “It was all for your 
sake, gossip. Naturally, I am not such a little wretch.” 

And so thus it came about that the nerve Opiniatura of the squire, the ill-tempers of 
Captain Crabshawe, the spleen of Mr. Spooner, and the fear of Sir George, gained the 
day. 

The ladies had much in their power at one time, if they could have seen their advan- 
tage, and profited by it. But Mrs. Jocelyn suffered the favorable moment to pass, and 
no other was given her. 


16 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


It now became a Babel of protestations on both sides, as to which party was the 
most in earnest. 

“ I want to be off to-morrow,” growled the squire. , ^ . 

“ That can’t be,” said Mr. Spooner, “ we must go to Hampton, to the agent, and hire 
the island; I know him, and will undertake that business.” 

“ Will 3^ou hire the other for us ? ” asked Mrs. Joscelyn. 

“ Certainly, madam ; which is it you wish to have ? ” ^ 

“ It would not be fair for either of us to go to Kibble, as there are inhabitants on it. 
There is no house on Nid, so the choice remains between Puff and Luff.” 

“ Oh, dear aunt! of course the gentlemen must take Puff. Its very name is sug- 
gestive.” 

“ Are the houses equally good on both ? ” 

“Luff has the most comfortable one.” 

“ Then, Elizabeth, you shall have Luff for your party.” 

“ Thank 3*ou, my dear John, it shall be so.” 

“But how far are the islands apart?” asked Captain Crabshawe anxiously; “we 
must not be too near.” 

“ Three miles.” 

“ You must promise, Mrs. Joscelyn, not to come over to our island, on any pre- 
tence.” 

“ Oh, Captain Crabshawe I suppose you should be ill and want a nurse ? ” 

“ Well, Miss Daintree, I have been ill before now, and, thank God, I was able to 
nurse myself well again. By the by, where’s Summers ? Frank, Frank ! where are 
you?” 

“ Here I ” said the amiable Frank, looking in from the window ; “ I have been listen- 
ing with the utmost attention to this Babel of tongues.” 

“Then of course you know what is settled; of course your mind is made up — you 
accompany us. You wouldn’t flinch now?” 

“ Flinch I no indeed ! I am ready to go to-morrow.” 

“ Ilumty turn ti ti ! ” murmured the captain. 

“ Do you sing, Captain Crabshawe? ” interrupted the little rose-bud. 

“ No, Miss Daintree ! But can you tell me where Miss Severn has vanished to? ” 

“ She has probably gone to bed ; j^ou know it was almost ten o’clock before you came 
Into the drawing-room. Then you have had tea, and I have been flirting with you ever 
since.” 

Flirting ! a grim smile came to Captain Crabshawe’s puckered mouth, which broke 
out into a sort of horse chuckle as he looked at Sir George. 

“ Follet is jealous,” thought he, “and Frank has been snubbed — Miss Severn has 
shown her tempers ; so much the better, we shall be all the merrier on the island.” 

“ I think,” said Mr. Spooner, touched by his wdfe’s red eyes, “ we had almost better 
settle no more to-night, but sleep over the thought. Probably we shall all think dif- 
ferently in the morning ! ” 

A torrent of invectives flew about his head for the insinuation. 

“ I go, if no one else does ! ” said the squire. 

“ Our honor is concerned,” added his wife ; “ we feel that somehow, unintentionally, 
we have ofiended you. Good gentlemen, for this we ask pardon, as befits dutiful wives 
and submissive young damsels. But as to giving up our challenge, as to supposing 
that we are unable to live without the company of your — your esteemed sex, we insist 
upon being put to the proof.” 

“ It is not so much that, madam — I dare say you might contrive to get on very well 
without us, for a time ; but I contend that we are independent of you altogether. In 
fact, madam, to speak plainly, a woman is a tax upon a man’s time, patience, and peace 
of mind. They may be luxuries, but they are useless and expensive ! ” 

“ If such are j our feelings. Captain Crabshawe, and if they are responded to by the 
rest of the gentlemen, we can but promise you the utmost expedition in releasing you 
from the annoyance of our society. To-day is Wednesday ; Mrs. Spooner may I an- 
swer for you, as well as myself and the girls, we shall be ready to start on Monday? ” 

“ Sooner if j-^ou can, Mrs. Joscelyn,” responded Mrs. Spooner, in a voice that could 
not make up its mind whether it would, be a cry or a sob. 

“ Not until Monday? ” exclaimed one or two, in disappointed tones. 

“ No, we do not intend to live like savages. I must have the house cleaned and 
aired.” 

“ There, squire, do you hear? Thank heavens, we are independent of any such non- 

S0QS0 • 

“ Still, Crabshawe, we have enough to do. Let us all at once agree to say Monday; 
we shall And the time little enough,” remonstrated Mr. Spooner. 


now THE CLOUD OF SMOKE GRADUALLY ENVELOPS. 


17 


CHAPTER III. 


trow THE CLOUD OF SMOKE GRADUALLY ENVELOPS OUR HEROES AND HEROINES 
FROM ALL EYES BUT THOSE OF THE READER AND WRITER. 

The writer being, as he hopes, on the best of terms with his reader, the latter will 
not think it necessary for the former to enter into any detail of the awakening feelings 
of the Puffs and Luffs (as we may now call them) on the following morning. It is 
enough to say that several of them repented the bargain made the evening before with 
such vehemence, that one or two were openly heard to say “ that they were all mad 
together, or silly as children,” which latter state was more humiliating than the former. 
Probably the whole scheme would have fallen to the ground, spite of Captain Crab- 
shawe’s powerful appeals, had it not been that* he was backed up by the squire, and 
absolutely encouraged by no less a person than Mr. Summers. Yes, Mr. Prank Sum- 
mers appeared the next morning at Deep-Cliffs; but we ought to describe Deep-Cliffs, 
and how it was situated, and why so many Pufis and Luffs met there, and all such particu- 
lars, which, without being parts of the story, are yet necessary to the filling-up of the 
picture, making that truthful and natural which, under careless handling, would have 
all the appearance of improbability and romance. 

Deep-Cliffs was the name of the house in which the Joscelyns had spent every sum- 
mer since they married. It was their own property — purchased wnth part of the money 
Mrs. Joscelyn brought to her husband as her fortune. Mrs. Joscelyn’s own paternal 
home was situated fifty miles further inland. 

Deep-Cliffs was situated on the coast. The scenery was grand and bold, in some 
parts romantically beautiful ; for deep dingles or ravines, nursing in their sheltered 
bosoms every tree and flower that Nature loves best, ran down to the beach, carrying 
with them little noisy, lightsome brooks, that no sooner burst cheerily out into the 
wide world, than they were lost and submerged in the wider world of sea. 

In the grounds belonging to Deep-Cliffs, which covered an extent of seven hundred 
acres, was a dingle rather larger and wider than most of them. 

Here the trees grew to a forest size, here the brook had to be spanned by bridges, 
and a winding carriage-road led from the house down to the sea, all through the dingle. 
The terminus was a small pleasure or boat-house, where Mr. Joscelyn kept one or two 
boats and a yawl. To launch these he had built a small dock, into which the little 
brook ran with jocund impetuositj’-, confident that it had at last found a space wherein 
it could expand, and assume almost the importance of a lake — but, alas ! only to find 
itself dripping ignominiously away through a sluice — on — on — its sweet water lost 
in the brine of the ocean. 

The house of Deep-Cliffs was just the sort of house that ought to belong to Mrs. 
Joscelyn. They suited each other. She was an elegant woman — the house was an 
elegant house. She was cheery and warm-hearted — the house was sunny and sweet; 
every door and every window generally in a hospitable state of wide-openness. 

Nobody looked at Mrs. Joscelyn without feeling gratified in one way or another; no 
one entered Deep-Cliffs without experiencing the delightful sensation of being at home. 
The inhabitants usually dwelling there are Mr. and Mrs. Joscelyn, two sons, now at 
school, one little girl, Bessie, the only being who leads the squire completely by the 
nose, seven male and female servants. 

The visitors are Kate Daintree, that little flirt, niece to Mrs. Joscelyn ; her friend 
and gossip. Miss Clara Severn, the young lady suspiciously gifted with a temper. 

These are staying in the house. 

Spending the day, this important day, that gave birth to the Puffs and Luffs, are Mr. 
and Mrs. Spooner, who usually dwell in the neighboring town of Hampton, where Mr. 
Spooner is the acting partner in the only bank, and so — a person of importance. 

Captain Crabshaw^e, also a dweller in Hampton, but whereabouts he lives in it few of 
his friends know. It has been conjectured that he has lodgings in a house a short way 
from town, belonging to the nursery gardens. Again it is conjectured that he does not 
live there, but his mother does ; and rumor is still further so unkind as to say that his 
mother is the wife of Jenkyns, the nurseiyman and seedsman of the town of Hampton. 
But as the settling of this question has nothing to do with the Pufls and Luffs, we will 
let it be. 

The -whereabouts of Captain Crabshawe must remain a mystery, — 

Very different from Sir George Follett. He is that fortunate young man who owns 
almost the whole of Hampton. He has the satisfaction of driving through, a street 
called Pollett Street, up to an hotel bearing the Follett arms. He sees a lane called 

3 


18 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


George Lane, and the square is styled Castle Square, because Sir George’s own house 

BeTiJe^ theliown of Rainpton, he owns half the county. He is Lord of tlie Manor, he 
has moors, he has mines, he has quarries, he has forests — in short, like the Marquis of 
Carabas he has everything. So, upon the whole, we must not be surprised that he 
“^Ve^ woman ^ many him. It is very amuable of him that he holds out 
so long, so tliat the most dejected have still the satisfaction of “ hoping. 

He is very fond of the squire, and with very good reason, too. The squire, as we 
have seen, is one of those mettlesome gentlemen who will speak his mind. If he does 
not a«Tee with an opinion expressed, he flatly contradicts, be the man who he may. 

It vais because the squire was so honest and true that Sir George liked him. From 
him he always got the thought of his heart, and he could trust him almost better than 

his own rather Aveak wayward mind. , , , * 

As for Mr. Summers, he Avas an eligible young bachelor, living in the toAvn of Kamp- 
ton He had an independent fortune, but still, disliking idleness, he had undertaken 
the superintendence of the Avorkiug of a mine leased out by Sir George to a company. 

Aftf'i jis business was over he had an inveterate habit of taking his boat and roAving 
himself over to Deep-Cliff’s Cove. Within the little lake, or pond or dock, he moored 
his vessel safely, as in expectation of storms, Avhich storms he Avould invoke or pray 
for all the Avay as he ran up to Deep-Cliff’s House. Not from a misanthropic state of 
mind, as regarded sailors and all their perils, but because he desired to be Avind-bound 
at Deep-Cliff. To be sure, it Avas very selfish of him^ but then ’tis but right to alloAV 
this disease had only attacked him lately. Tavo months before he had not shoAvn even 
a symptom, though noAV it was so violent he Avas ahvays praying for stormy Aveather, 
in the height of summer, after six o’clock. And here he is, shoAving the malady in 
another form. After almost quarrelling Avith all his friends over night, he is now 
upholding Captain CrabshaAve and the squire in all their crinks and cranks, seemingly 
as possessed by the nerve Opiniatum as they are. 

Evidently Mr. Spooner would Qvy peccavi on merely the hint, and Sir George has been 
even a little mutinous. 

These tAvo gentlemen — these two flat and degenerate Puffs — are regretting the 
“ flesh-pots of Egypt.” Captain CrabshaAve is holding forth on that fine, satisfying, and 
truthful couplet — or rather the sense of it, for he is innocent of knoAving a line of 
poetry, or, indeed, why poetry is different from prose, — 


“ Man wants but little here below, 

Nor wants that little long,” 

and they don’t seem to agree with him. So far from wanting “little,” they require a 
great deal, and all the more because they can’t have it “ long.” 

However, as the preparations go on they catch a little of the enthusiasm. Also the 
ladies keep up a perpetual taunting, until they are goaded into a sort of desperation, 
Avhich acts the part of keeping them up to the mark. 

Then there are a great many squabbles. They argue about servants, they disagree 
about having provisions ; the gentlemen are nettled at the ladies providing themselves 
Avith a piano, and the ladies are huffed because the gentlemen Avill have the Times every 
day. 

The squire thinks that his Elizabeth is much too cheerful, considering she is going to 
leave him for a month ; and though he is too proud to tell her, he has a perception that 
he will miss her most dreadfully, and it is her business, and not his, to say so. And 
there is his little Bessie — he has almost a mind to make her come Avith him. 

“ Oh! laAv, no, papa! ” exclaimed Miss Bessie, as he half in fun mentioned his idea. 
“ I dare not ! Captain CrabshaAve is going to poison every woman who comes near 
Puff.” 

“ But you are not a woman, Bessie.” 

“ That doesn’t matter, papa, I wear petticoats.” t 

“ Put on your brother’s clothes, and come with me.” 

“No, I thank you, papa. lam much too proud for that. I don’t like men at all, 
excepting just you, papa; and I would rather be the smallest woman that over lived, 
than the finest man that ever Avas born ! ” 

“ Bessie is true to her sex,” remarked her mother. 

Mr. Spooner thinks his Arabella might at least return to the fondness of their bridal 
days, as they are about to part for the first time since their marriage. T^hile she is 
altogether so ruffled, so excited, so nervous, that she is as troublesome to the Puffs as 
she is Avearisome to the Luffs. She has no time to think of her Augustus and his claims 
upon her affections — she is in one perpetual Avorry as Avhat she shall take, and what 
she Avill leave behind — what she Avill really Avant, and Avhat she can do without. 

“Did you ever see such a woman?” had the captain remarked; “the Lord be 
thanked on Monday there will be three miles of water between her and us ! ” 


HOW THE CLOUD OF SMOKE GRADUALLY ENYELOPS. 


19 


This was the real distance that was shout to separate the Puffs from the Luffs, the 
Lords and the Ladies, for a month — a month being the time settled on for the chal- 
lenge to be won or lost. 

Sir George Follctt is deeply grieved at the flighty, foolish conduct of Miss Daiutree. 
So far from feeling, much less intimating, a little sorrow at the parting for so long 
(he feels himself it is much too long), she is singing all over the house, packing for 
everybody. When quiet at last, she is so busy making herself a cotton dress for Luff 
duty, that she has no time to listen to him. He watches her, shaping out the dainty 
waist ; he marks the little earnest frown of anxiety, which gives her sweet little rose- 
bud face such a wise look; he is quite in love with the way in which she smooths lier 
work, taps it ; the air with which she threads her needle, the intensity she puts mto 
the making of a knot ; even that dreadful unlady-like trick of placing a pin between 
her lips — he found no fault with that — he did not think it dreadful or unlady-like — he 
only had a sort of longing to be that pin. 

And then, one evening, when she went out alone, and he followed her — he scarcely 
knew why — he did not know what might be the consequence, but he followed her. He 
discovered her with Susan, the maid that was going with them to Luff. Susan was 
teaching her to milk Daisy, the cow ; how she laughed with glee — how she chatted to 
Susan of all they would do — of their happiness — their freedom — he hidden beliind 
the great laurel ; — a great bitterness came into his heart. 

“ She is nothing but a silly child, not worth thinking about. In fact, she has no 
heart ! ” 

As for Miss Severn, she seemed radiant with happiness, entering into all the pack- 
ing and arrangements with a spirit and thought that excited even the squire’s admira- 
tion. 

As for Frank, he was here, there, and everywhere — whistling, singing, laughing, 
joking, working harder than any of them, hearing of no compromise, comforting 
Spooner, and coaxing Follett. People might have supposed they were all ‘going to 
Puff and Luff solely to oblige him. 

“ I say,” said the captain, to any new friend, “ a word in your ear. He has been 
refused, and is carrying off his disappointment with a high hand. Ha ! ha ! catch me 
ever being refused by a woman ! ” 

Without entering into all the captain’s feelings, Frank’s friends agreed that such was 
his fate, such the reasons of his conduct. They admired him, they honored him for it. 
It should be the endeavor of all, while at Puff, pour balm into his wounded feel- 
ings. 

And now came the final moment — the parting hour. It is needless to puzzle the 
reader with all the miuutiaB of their packings and arrangements ; how the yawl went 
to and fro, with furniture, food, and necessaries ; how the ladies only took one servant ; 
and how the gentlemen intended to go without auv, just to show their independence, 
and finally engaged two. In fact. Sir George would not go without his servant Sam. 
Sam was one of those faithful, worthy, attached servants, that was miserable if his 
master went anywhere without him — his master reciprocating the sentiment ten- 
fold. So after a hard battle with Captain Crabshawe, Sam was conceded, on the con- 
dition that he made himself useful to all the gentlemen, as well as his master. 

This had been scarcely settled half a day, when all the Puflltes were amazed at hear- 
ing that Captain CrabshaXve had engaged another man to go with them, who rejoiced 
in'the discordant name of Scruttles ! 

“ Hah ! ” said the captain, ignoring their expressions of astonishment at this change 
in his tactics, “hah! — such a man! — the very fellow for us! — turned up quite by 
accident! He knows a thing or two — he’s up to dodges — he’s a cook, a valet, a 
game-keeper, a fisherman — he can even be a lady’s-maid, if wanted, which, thank the 
immortal powers, we don’t — he has been in Australia — in the bush ! ” 

And he paused that he might hear their expressions of delight ; but as they had not 
got over their astonishment, none came. However, they were not ill-pleased to have 
this Phoenix. 

“lam going to enjoy myself,” observed the squire ; “ and to do so, I must be com- 
fortable ; and my notion of being comfortable is to have servants to do certain things 
for me. I have no objection to make my own bed, and black my own boots once in a 
while, but I feel I shall not like to do so often.” 

Before the final parting came, the form of the challenge was drawn up, signed, sealed, 
and delivered, each possessing a copy. 

The substance of it was as follows : — 

Each party bound themselves to stay a month on their respective islands, only coming 
on shore for church. 

(Captain Crabshawe, had said, — 

“ Why can’t we read our prayers at home? ” 

You can do so,” answered Mrs. Joscelyn, “but we go to church.” 

“ Just to show off your fine bonnets and silks and satins ! ” 


20 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“We should wish to avoid meeting you, certainly, and shall therefore attend no 
church at Hampton ; but will go to the little fishing village of Exe, wluch is scarcely a 
mile from Luflf.” 


“ Agreed.” 

“ Our fine bonnets and silks and satins will be rather wasted there, Captain Crab- 
shawe ; so perhaps you will give ns credit for attending church from other motives than 
the one you so politely assigned us.” . , , ^ 

He was sorry to rouse Miss Severn’s anger, but he never could understand what 
women would be at, and he did not mean to bother his head about them. 

Once a week the boat was to bring each island fresh provisions, clothes, books, and 
anything required, but a male or female, on the forbidden island. 

Each party was to keep a journal, in which all were bound upon honor to write their 
impressions, at least once a week. 

The challenge was lost by either party invading the sacred dominions of the other. 
At the same time, the ladies being of the order weak and helpless, in case of any extra- 
ordinary emergency, were to be permitted to hoist a fiag, as a signal of distress. 

This item was sternly repudiated by the captain, and as warmly insisted on by Erank 
Summers. Indeed, all the Puffs resolved that it should be allowed — the squire 
saying, — 

“ It would make him happier.” 

Mr. Spooner, all his tenderest feeling roused by the approaching parting, declared he 
would not go “ unless it was a settled thing,” while Sir George remarked sotto voce, — 

“ Just hoist the fiag whenever you like. Miss Daintree, and I will come myself.” 

“You are very kind, but I fancy I would rather die than do such a thing! ” 

“Oh! nonsense. Miss Daintree; there are a number of things which would waiTant 
you doing so. Kobbers might invade your island.” 

“ Clara takes Puna — Mrs. Spooner has Spitz.” 

“ As if a Newfoundland dog and that snarling little brute could assist you ! But you 
may be dull.” 

“ Oh, no ! lam going to take a kitten, little Bessie has a canarj’-, and we are going 
to make ourselves very wise. I shall study astronomy, and Clara means to teach us 
molluscology, besides conchology, and geology ” 

“ For heaven’s sake, don’t. Miss Daintree ! If there is a thing in this world I dislike 
it is a blue woman ; I mean a woman that is blue — clever, you know.” 

“ And do you mean to infer I am not clever? ” 

“ Of course, my dear Miss Daintree, I mean nothing of the sort. What I dislDve are 
‘ ologists ’ of any kind. I cannot bear to think of you ‘ ologizing ’ in any way.*’ 

“ But how can it affect you? I am a Luflite, and a Puffite. Are we on speaking 
terms ! ” 

“ Oh ! Miss Daintree, I really think you take a pleasure in teazing me.” 

“ Fortunately for you, this is my last opportunity. Good-by, for a month — a whole 
month ! ” 

“ Remember the fiag — promise me to hoist it.” 

“ I will die first ! With all my faults, I am true to my colors and to my sex.” 

“ She is provoking,” murmured Sir George, “but prettier than ever; and it is the 
more provoking that I can’t help liking all she says and does.” 

The challenge was lost if either party added to, or took from, the numbers with 
which they started, a margin being allowed in the matter of servants. 

“ For,” said the captain, “ we shall soon be rid of that useless fellow Sam — Scruttles 
will do all that we require.” 

The challenge was lost if either party received visitors for more than a day of their 
own sex. The challenge was lost if either party gave in. Thus all contingencies being 
considered, the documents were duly signed, sealed, and executed by the Puffs and 
Lulls. And now they are off — not quite at the same moment, for the ladies are waiting 
for ]\Irs. Spooner’s hat, ordered for special island duty. It had come home in time, 
trimmed with pretty blue ribbons, but, conceiving green to be more appropriate, Mrs. 
Spooner had sent it back for this important alteration. 

“ Ila! ha!” was heard Captain Crabshawe’s laugh, as they rowed away — “ we don’t 
forget anything.” But in a few moments their boat returned — the squire had forgotten 
his fishing-rod. 

This rod he had carried about under his arm at great inconvenience, not only to him- 
self, but everybody who came near him, all the morning. He had awakened, he said, 
with the impression that he should leave it behind him, and he bore it about thus, to 
give his impression the lie. 

Nevertheless his impression had been true to itself. He inadvertently laid it downbv 
a mooring post at the dock, confident that it would be safely remembered, so close at 
hand; but in taking leave of IMrs. Joscelynand little Bessie, the natural feelings of hus- 
band and father had obliterated those of fishing and independence. 

Captain Crabshawe was aghast at the alacrity with which his subjects (he being 


HOW THE CLOUD OP SMOKE GRADUALLY ENVELOPS. 


21 


elected King of Puff, as Mrs. Joscelyn was chosen Queen of Luff) all took advantage of 
this return, and popped out like rabbits from his boat, to go and exchange a few last 
words with the ladies, sitting in their boat. However, he gathered them all together 
again — Prank Summers having the last parting word, — 

“ Kemember the Hag.” 

It was a very elegant flag, and had been presented to the ladies that morning, with 
many pretty speeches. It was accepted by them in an equally gracious manner. In- 
deed, the moment of their separation seemed to open all their hearts to each other, ob- 
literating all past offences on either side, and making even Captain Crabshawe civil — 
not to say complimentary. 

The gentlemen had the satisfaction of seeing the messenger with the hat, speeding 
for his life down the narrow precipitous path, that led by a short cut from Deep-Clifis 
to the beach. They gave a cheer, which came merrily over the water, as they saw the 
ladies’ boat leave the shore. The two boats, to gain their respective islands, had to go 
at right angles. They watched each other until the intervening island Kid hid boat 
from boat. 

Meantime we must not lag — we have a great deal to do before night, as it is neces- 
sary to see both parties landed, and comfortably located for the night. As is fitting, 
the gentlemen shall have the post of honor, and their doings shall be chronicled flrst. 

It is needless to say, they were all in good spirits. That love of adventure and frolic, 
which is supposed to dwell in all healthy and happy frames, was allowed free scope. 
They were all disposed to be extremely merry and good-natured ; and Captain Crab- 
shawe was so beaming Avith benign and amiable thoughts, that his countenance glowed 
with the milk of human kindness ; while the squire, unable to contain the superabun- 
dance of his genial spirit, or to keep his activity in, stripped off his coat and took an oar 
— thus lending a willing hand to row himself to his fate. 

The creAV consisted of the five Puffites, tAvo sailors, or boatmen, and the faithful Sam, 
who sat in the boAV of the boat, jammed up Avith all sorts of luggage — a crate of kitch- 
en utensils running into his back, and a barrel of beer rocking over his toes ; Avhile he 
ardently clasped under each arm a stout bottle of blacking ; patent varnish, d’Orsay’s 
polish, and Probert’s cream paste, peeping’out of his numerous pockets. 

It might be that Sam disapproved of the Avhole plan, or that an obstreperous toast- 
ing-fork Avas lacerating some part of his person, or that the barrel of beer rolled over a 
tender corn, or that he Avas aAvare he Avas bristling over AAdth bottles, and that the least 
movement on his part might provoke a smash. Some of these, or all of these, might 
be the cause Avhy Sam’s face Avas the only unhappy one on board. 

It may be asked, Avhere Avas the incomparable Scruttles — he of the rugged name — 
but superexcellent nature ? He had been sent to Puff two days before, not only to pre- 
pare for their reception, but to unpack and arrange their household matters. 

It Avas delightful, the idea of being met and welcomed to their island home by so val- 
ued a dependant. 

And there he Avas ! 

Whether their imaginations had been unusually stirred by the praises of Captain 
Crabshawe, and they had each secretly pictured to themselves their idea of Avhat a 
model servant ought to be — the flrst sight of Scruttles dispelled them all at once and 
forever. 

Indeed, his personal appearance was of so dubious a character, that the squire, unao 
customed and unable to contain his thoughts, abruptly exclaimed, — 

“ Where did you pick up your ticket-of-leave ? ” 

The question reddened the knob on Captain CrabshaAVe’s face, but the complexion of 
Scruttles seemed incapable of further suft'usion, and his feelings, if he had ever had any, 
were of that brickbatish order, they could not be hurt. 

“ He has been in trouble certainly — but he is a capital fellow — he has been months 
camped out in the bush ! ” , 

Ah ! a returned convicti ” 

“ IMy dear squire, hoAv inconsiderate you are — you might hurt his feelings ! ” 

“ Yours I may, perhaps, so I beg your pardon ; but his — Avell, you are ansAverable 
for him — and Ave Avill remember, as no man made himself, so is no man responsible for 
being more than ordinarily ill-looking. ‘ Handsome is that handsome does.’ A very 
good motto. But noAV, hold hard ! I don’t stir a step until I have had something to 
drink. RoAving is thirsty Avork. Sam, hand out the hamper of porter — no av the soda- 
Avater. We Avill have a go of shandy-gaff all round.” 

It AA'as ^ome time before these hampers could be extracted. When they Avere pulled 
out from beneath everything else there Avas no corkscreAV. The squire, feeling the 
more thirsty the more obstacles Avero throAvn in his Avay, settled that question by knock- 
ing off the heads of the bottles, Avhich he did just in time to discover there Avas no jug. 
This crisis Avas met by the activity of Scruttles, Avho pulled out a bran neAV kettle by its 
spout from the crate, and presented it just in time. Finally, there Avere no tumblers. 
or anything handy out of Avhich to drink. But Avith the indomitable perseverance of 


22 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


the ancient Briton, the squire put his mouth to the spout, and sucked in a gigantic quaif, 
with exceeding relish and satisfaction. ^ 

They then marched up, laden with packages, to take possession of their palace. Plicy 
were very well acquainted with its appearance and capabilities, having often visited the 
island with shooting-parties and picnics. 

The house had been originally begun by a sort of adventurer, who, before a light- 
house had been placed on Kibble, gained a livelihood by collecting the debris of the 
numerous wrecks that occurred in the bay, and which drifted round to Puff, by some 
peculiarity of the current. 

When his vocation was gone, by the establishment of light-houses and buoys, and 
other safeguards, Government enlarged the house, and formed it into a sort of shelter 
for the crews of pilot-boats or fishing-smacks, whose power of returning home was 
often seriously endangered by shore winds, and an iuwash of the tide, that as often 
swept them out to sea again as not. 

But the owner of the islands, having reason to suspect that many took shelter there 
for no other reason than to shoot rabbits, made Government build another refuge on 
Kibble, where the light-house was placed. 

He then altered, enlarged, and freshened up the house to its present condition, and 
let it out, with the rabbit-warren (which had become extremely valuable) to parties of 
gentlemen, and sometimes to London dealers — the first for the sake of sporting, the 
second for the value of the rabbits. 

The house consisted of one large hall, with a staircase running up one side, which 
led to a sleeping chamber. A gallery or staircase outside led to two more on the other 
side, and joined on to a series of excavations, made out of the limestone rock. Tbe 
first of these was a sort of corridor or passage, with large loopholes letting in light and 
air, but on occasions wind, spray, and rain. This opened into a good-sized room, wnth 
handsome windows framed into the rock. It was furnished with a brazier, or basket 
fireplace, the smoke of which went up through a funnel-shaped opening, down which,- 
in years long gone by, the smugglers let their goods, and hid them in the caverns that 
now formed chambers. On the other side of this room was the kitchen, the smoke of 
whose fire went up through the same openirrg. Beyond the kitchen was still another 
chamber, and so extraordinarily soft and pliable was the cliff, that it might have been 
excavated in all directions with very little trouble, and a hundred people live in it, like 
rabbits in burrows. 

Notwithstanding the disappointment regarding the looks of Scruttles, the squire had 
been favorably impressed with his quickness in providing him with the substitute for a 
jug at the opportune moment. All the Avay up to the house he argued to himself, — 

“ Villianous-looking as the fellow is, he has his wits about him — no doubt we shall 
find everything most comfortably arranged.” 

But the scene that presented itself, when they entered the hall, at first startled them, 
and then fortunately amused them. They all sat down on any seat they could find, and 
roared with laughter. 

Their beds were thrown promiscuously anywhere ; a sort of bush encampment was 
improvised round the fireplace ; the chairs and tables were all piled away in a corner as 
lumber, and it appeared to be the prevailing impression of Mr. Scruttles that they were 
to bivouac, one and all, in this place and none other. Their guns were all put ready for 
action, while their portmanteaux, desks, boxes, books, and little luxuries, were stowed 
out of the way in a sort of cellar. 

It required a vast deal of seeking and finding before each had collected his own prop- 
erty. But, lighting the pipes of independence, they each set heartily to work, and if 
they were astonished at the bush arrangements of the “ returned convict,” nothing 
could exceed his amazement at the result of their labors. 

He and Sam were hustled off to the kitchen and the small room adjoining, whither 
they were bid to take their own private property and the kitchen utensils, arranging 
them as they liked best. The hall was soon cleared of bedsyand bedding, the squire and 
Mr. Spooner agreeing to occupy the large bedroom. Sir George and Mr. Summers the 
next largest, and Captain Crabshawe was to have a little den to himself. Chairs and 
tables were placed in the excavated room next to the kitchen, and there they agreed to 
take all their meals, which would leave the hall always sacred to themselves. 

They were, to use the squire’s expression, “as jolly as sandboys,” though one or 
two little miffs or scuds of temper fiew about, by way of variety. 

Sir George was nettled at the captain’s remarks upon the quantity of his luggage. 

“Are those three portmanteaux yours, Follett? ” asked he. 

“ Yes, my dear Crab. I have a weakness for shirts. I wear two — sometimes three 
a day.” 

“ The deuce you do ! How are they to be washed here, I should like to know ? Look 
hampered with nothing but what I stand in, and the contents of this mere 

It was a mere bag. 

O 


HOW THE CLOUD OF SMOKE GRADUALLY ENVELOPS. 23 

Strange to say, no one complimented the captain, upon the smallness of his lug- 
gage. 

“That Sam of yours seems utterly helpless — he thinks of nothing but his pots of 
blacking, which are entirely useless here.” 

“ I should say my servant was quite as good as yours. He has been staring at us the 
last half hour, when, you would naturally conclude, he ought to be cooking our dinner.” 

“ By the by, that’s well thought on. Crab, what are we to have for dinner? ” 

“ Anything you like, squire.” 

“ Let me advise a cold dinner to-day,” said Mr. Spooner. “ It is now almost three 
o’clock, and you know we have a round of beef, Perigord pies, and a ham already 
cooked.” 

‘ ‘ Ah ! that was Elizabeth’s idea — bringing — ” ^ 

“ Squire, no woman’s name allowed here.” 

“ Well, at all events, let me suggest soup for dinner, and hot potatoes. The rest of 
it we can very well make out with the cold meat. We have portable soup, haven’t vve. 
Spoon?” 

“Yes, we have; but allow me to remark, I object to my name being shortened.” 

“No offence, old fellow. I thought here we were to do just as we liked, without the 
chance of aifront.” 

“ You see my name is such an awkward one, squire.” 

“ I don’t see that at all ; you wouldn’t mind my saying Pork, I suppose, presuming 
your name was Forker ? ” 

“ No, not at all.” 

“In fact,” whispered Sir George confidentially to Frank, “ Spoon is a little too ap- 
propriate to be pleasant.” 

“ Humph! ” answered Frank, which was no doubt an intelligible reply to Sir George. 

“ Now, whose books are these? ” he asked aloud. 

“ They are mine,” answered the captain, not without a regular feminine smirk of 
satisfaction. “ You- have rather an odd assortment. ‘ Paley’s Evidences,’ ‘ Bailey’s 
Turf Guide,’ ‘ The Protoplast,’ ‘ The Complete Grazier,’ ‘ Ephemera.’ ” 

As he read the names aloud most of his auditors burst out laughing. Men are many 
of them incapable of controling their risible faculties ; but indulge in them, no 
matter the result. Now, it must be conceded that the other sex have infinite tact on 
such occasions. Their kindness of heart is such, that they will hear the most absurd 
mistake, witness the most ridiculous sight, and do both without moving a muscle of 
their countenance. Whereas our PnfRtes laughed — and laughed all the louder, when 
they perceived their captain, their king, looked much nettled. 

In fact, it was pretty well known amongst his friends that Captain Crabshawe was 
by no means a literary fellow ; but having that sort of disposition that made him desir- 
ous of the character of excellency in everything, he had selected his library more to 
sustain a learned reputation than for absolute use. 

Ill the ordinary intercourse of life, his friends were conscious that he often made 
dashes at hard words, and as often failed to achieve the feat of pronouncing them cor- 
rectly. And in the matter of spelling, he had been heard to say, to do so by rule, and 
according to Johnson, was a mere matter of taste. 

Seeing him about to burst forth in angry invectives — for the captain had so much 
of a feminine nature in him as to be ready to retort on the least provocation — the 
amiable Frank said, — 

“ Come, squire, I have done all I can, shall we go to the highest part of the island 
and take an observation ? ” 

“ Hah I only too see after that flag I saw you give the ladies,” quoth the captain, de- 
termined to have his wrath out some how. “ I hardly think it is hoisted yet. I am not 
too much impressed with the amount of wisdom ladies can stow away in their empty 
heads, but I will do them this justice — that flag is still in its case.” 

“ So I should hope,” answered Summers, politely; “ at the same time, I mean to find 
out on Pufl* the most eligible point for seeing Lufl* before I sleep to-night.” 

“ That is very good-natured of you, Frank, considering all things,” remarked Sir 
George. 

“ I don’t know anything about the good-nature; when a man pleases himself, he is ‘ 
usually styled selfish, and not good-natured.” 

“ Whether selfish or good-natured, I give you all due notice, I do not intend to pay 
the least attention to that flag. We came here to be entirely free from the whims, 
weaknesses, and wickednesses ” 

“ Come, come. Crab, no villifying of the absent. There are enough of us, without 
outraging your feelings, to go to the ladies’ assistance when they signal for us. Mean- 
time, squire, I will accompany you and Frank over the island. I have ordered the 
dinner.” 

Some mumbling words from Captain Crabshawe about everybody ordering every- 
thing without reference to him, were unnoticed by the gentlemen, who, relighting their 


24 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


pipes of independence, started off on their expedition. They were soon followed by 
the captain, who arriv^cd in time to hear Sir George say, ~ , 

“ Sam is positively afraid to be alone with him he is a murderer. an escaped 

convict! ” . ,,, , , . ^ ,1 

“ He is no such thing, Follett,” interrupted the captain ; “ he has been in trouble, as 

I said before — a simple case of poaching ” 

“ And killing a game-keeper? ” suggested the squire. 

“Not at all; I never heard of his killing any one. He was transported, certainly, 
and he has now come home on leave ” 

“ Just as 1 said,” again interrupted the squire ; “ a Ticket-of-lcave ! ” 

“ Upon ray word, squire, there isn’t a hope of getting a single sentence finished when 
you are by.” 

“ I beg your pardon. Crab — go on, I will listen like a block.” 

“ Well, Scruttlcs, but for this one misfortune, bears an excellent character. I be- 
lieve .his story is quite a romance. He is an excellent fellow — really a first-rate 
fellow ! ” 

The captain was suffered to go on reiterating these praises without an interruption ; 
but finding he had really nothing more to say, Frank Summers announced “ that here, 
and here only, should lie plant a staff of observation.” 

The gentlemen proceeded to use their eyes, instead of their tongues, and took a good 
survey of the scene around and about them. They were on the highest part of the 
island. By turning round, they could view the whole of their little kingdom, surround- 
ed by its white fringe of waves bordering the deep blue mantle of the sea. 

There was no lack of life, for flights of sea-birds were off on their afternoon repast, 
wheeling round and round, and each uttering its discordant cries, as if to announce to 
each other the intrusion of strangers. Some bolder than the rest, made off in single 
flights, and flew high over the light feathery smoke that now began to issue from the 
palace of the Pufls. As if to confirm their suspicions, these flew back in swift and 
steady flight to their different flocks, when the whole alighted on some prominent rock, 
and appeared to hold a solemn assembly. 

But they were not the only living things. From out of tufts of grass, from behind 
stones, from underneath a plume of ferns, out of little sandy holes, came innumerable 
rabbits, among which ran the pretty peewits, like little ladies, with their skirts tucked 
up. Bright-eyed dotterels sat on tufts of the coarse grass ; and the whole island was 
moving with life and beauty. 

It was impossible to resist the impression of the scene, or the serenity and happiness 
that filled their minds as they looked around, and saw themselves shut off as it were, 
from all the conventionalities of every-day life. A perception of their freedom from all 
the ties of society, of the healthful, careless life they might now lead, and the relaxa- 
tion from usual habits, and common cares, were enjoyable enough, without the loveli- 
ness of everything around them. 

The squire could see his beautiful home, embowed in shrubs and woods, and yet not 
regret his absence from its luxuries. 

Sir George, for the first time, was impressed with a wonder of, and admiration for, 
nature — the perception causing a glow of feeling in his heart, as fresh and pure as the 
sea-breeze cooling his cheek. 

Both Mr. Spooner and Frank had turned towards the other islands, and watched with 
intense and delighted interest a little puff of smoke suddenly rising out of the wood- 
sheltered house on Lufl’; this soon began to rise in columns of rolling, unfolding, cir- 
cling vapor, which, inflating and swelling, were caught by flying zephyrs. These l)ore 
them away in little fleecy clouds, as if to curtain heaven anew, but, alas ! of earthly 
birth, they knew their unworthiness, and died of shame by the way. 

“ They arc there ! ” whispered the one to the other. 

Mr. Spooner’s face bore the expression his friends remembered to have seen in his 
bridal days — his heart was soft towards his Arabella. And in whatever manner the 
owner of the brown hat, bordered by the blue veil, had comported herself towards Mr. 
Summers, that gentleman bore no malice in his heart against her, now that three milc» 
of water were between him and her — temper. 

Captain Crabshawe was alone unmoved by the soft beauty of the evening shadows, by 
the calm loveluiess of everything around him. He was taking imaginary shots in his 
mind at the birds and rabbits, and congratulating himself secretly that he was about 
saving board and lodging for a month. For though all had contributed towards the 
expenses of their expedition, his share had dwindled down, through the lavishness of 
the others, into nothing.^ He was to be comfortably lodged, royally fed, and highly 
amused and all for nothing. A mode of payment which exactly suited his ideas. 

Thus they all sat, “ conversing with their own thoughts,” for nearly an hour. 

At last the squire, who had made the nearest approach to a romantic state of mind 
that ever occurred to him in his life, heaved a sort of sigh of happiness. 


now THE CLOUD OP SMOKE GRADUALLY ENVELOPS. 25 

“ All! yes,” lie mused aloud, “ that is Luff; Elizabeth is there, and no doubt making 
herself extremely comfortable.” 

“Had not you better all invoke your loves?” said the captain ironically. “The 
squire has set you a good example.” 

Mr. Joscelyn winced, but carried off his discomfiture by exclaiming, — 

“ Come, I have sat until I am chilled. I mean to go round our dominions at a brisk 
pace, and then home to dinner.” 

When they returned from their walk, the squire went up to his room gayly carolling, 
his appetite in that happy state he could devour a horse. 

Captain Crabshawe turned into the kitchen to see after his “ excellent convict.” Sir 
George called aloud for Sam, while Mr. Spooner and Mr. Summers inspected the arrange- 
ments for dinner. 

Evidently the “excellent convict” had laid the cloth according to the rules of bush 
life. In the centre of the table were the knives and forks, laid straight, but all together. 
Some rough salt in a teacup, a few spoons and two beer horns, completed the picture. 
But that was not all. 

“ Spooner, look here I I declare it is — it must be a sheet — it is my sheet — here is 
my name, marked by my mother ! Have we no table-cloths, that one of my sheets is 
used for us to dine on ? ” 

A hue-and-cry for Scruttles. Scruttles was at that ticklish part of his cooking w’hen 
the portable soup was on the boil. Even when he did come, the “ excellent convict” 
by no means entered into the feelings of the gentlemen regarding Mr. Summers's sheet. 

• “ Sam wor a-busy a-settling Sir Eolly’s baggidge, and bid I lay a cloth. And I took 
the first to hand ; and as for a sheet, maybees it’s a sheet, but wot odds, so it wor sum- 
mat of a cloth, if gentlefolks wud have a cloth — but for my part, I’d as lief not be 
fashed wi’ un.” 

“ Fashed or no, go and bring a table-cloth.” 

“Pooh, pooh, Frank!” interrupted the captain, now joining them. “There is no 
time to lay the dinner-table again.” 

“ If you called that table laid, there is — for my part, time must be found — if I do it 
myself.” 

Feeling greatly for Summers’s awkw^ard position, Spooner offered to help, and to- 
gether they laid the table in first-rate style, calling Scruttles, now in a second crisis of 
the soup boiling up, to come and take a lesson as to how a table should be laid for gen- 
tlemen to dine on. 

“ Gude sakes ! to think o’ taiking a’ thon pains to put a bit victual in one’s mooth ! ” 
was all the “ excellent convict” remarked. 

Meantime the squire made his appearance, looking as fresh and debonnaire as if he 
was about to dine with her Majesty. His passion for ablutions entitled him to be ranked 
among the amphibia race. 

“ Hullo, squire, what a swell you are ! ” exclaimed the captain, as the two improvised 
butlers rushed olf to perform their toilets. “Now, I considered that one of the chief 
pleasures of coming to the island was a freedom from the bore of dressing, which one 
is obliged to submit to, owing to female arbitrariness.” 

“Humph!” answered the squire, “I have a certain respect for a fellow called Jack 
Joscelyn, and I always pay him the compliment of a clean shirt, hands, and face, even 
when he and I dine alone.” 

“ Gracious heavens ! ” shouted Mr. Spooner, out of the little window of the bedroom 
he shared with the squire, “this room, our room, is swimming in water — everything 
splashed in every direction.” 

“I thought it was a confounded small place to wash in — I must take to the sea, I 
suppose. Ha ! here is the soup — steaming hot, too ! — make haste, my boys ! ” 

“xiy, ho be hot, he have biled up twice, yer honor.” 

“ Twice ! ” echoed the squire, looking dubious. 

He lifted up the lid to see what might be the probable effects of two boilings — if any- 
thing strange. There was ! On the top of the soup floated various matters, giving it 
the same appearance as the surface of a pond on a thrashing day. 

“ Crab, come here ! ” shouted the squire ; “ can this be the eflect of double boiling? ” 

“ I suppose so — it smells good.” 

The face of Scruttles underwent different phases of ugliness as he anxiously regarded 
them. He ti I jd to look pleased, but he only seemed a greater convict than ever, as the 
squire put on the lid again, and sat down. 

The squire said “ grace,” we presume under the idea it would Hasten his compan- 
ions ; the squire altered the position of the decanters on the table ; he played wflth his 
knife and fork ; he cut a bit out of his bread and ate it. 

The squire again raised the lid of the soup tureen. What had been floating about in 
various particles before was now settled down, into a sort of repulsive crust. 

“ Shall I giv her another bile,” suggested Scruttles, wdio now looked so hideous, a 
prey to the deepest, most perspiring anxiety, that the squire stared at him in amaze- 

4 


26 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


ment at the sight. But, as before stated, being of a just nature, he could not but appre- 
ciate the “excellent convict’s ” ardent solicitude to please. 

“ Poor beast,” soliloquized the squire, “he does his best. Was he born so? or was 
it accident? What can he have done with the rest of his nose? and how comes one eye 
to be so much higher in his face than the other. IIow hot he is, poor wretch? Well, 
when I see a man anxious to please, striving to do his best, I endeavor to think noth- 
of his personal appearance, but — hullo ! here they are ! Come along, my line fel- 
lows! Sit down — do. I have said ‘ grace.’ Who’s for soup? — it smells good.” 

The first spoonful explained its strange appearance, and sent all but Captain Crab- 
shawe spluttering out of the room. The “ excellent convict ” had not considered it 
necessary to wash out the new saucepan before he used it, consequently the prevailing 
taste of the twice boiled portable soup was that of sawdust and straw. But the pota- 
toes were excellent, the round of beef super-excellent ; the squire, as he expressed it, 
dined royally; he flirted from beef to pie, from pie to ham, and completed his dinner 
with a junk of double Gloucester cheese that w'ould have sulllced for a laborer’s dinner. 

’Tis true, they had all to wait a good deal upon themselves. Sam appeared to see 
perfectly well what his master required, but no one else ; and all that Scruttles was 
able to do in the waiting line, was to stand and stare in amazement at the way in which 
“quality” dined. 

With hearts brimful of happiness, no sooner was the cloth removed, than simultane- 
ously they lit the pipes of freedom and delight, and vigorously puffed away for an hour, 
in token of their emancipation from curtains and woman’s whims. 

At the end of that time, the squire’s digestion, disordered as he said by the spoonful 
of soup that had inadvertently got down his throat, before he was aware of its peculiar 
composition, — or, as we say, by unlimited smoking, — loudly demanded a corrective. 

“ Can your crack convict make us a cup of coffee, Crabshawe? ” 

“ Of course. Here, Scruttles, send in coffee.” 

When Sam brought it in, all eyes were turned thereon ; it looked good, dark, clear, 
bright — it also smelt good, and thoroughly like coflee. 

Fearlessly the squire took a good gulp, then he made one rush, followed by Sir George 
and Spooner, equally affected. 

They were all heard spluttering, coughing, and choking outside. 

Captain Crabshawe, nettled to such a degree that the knob on his face resembled a 
live coal, calmly sipped away, as if his coffee were delicious. 

Mr. Summers cogitated over his, tasting it deliberately. Then he arose, and went 
out to reassure his friends. 

“ Don’t be alarmed — you are not poisoned. You ha^ only got the remains of the 
squire’s shandygafl’ mixed with your coffee. It had been left, I presume, in the tea- 
kettle.” 

The squire’s digestion was nevertheless still so disordered as to prevent him from 
thoroughly appreciating the satisfaction of not being poisoned ; and as the only solace 
left him, he took up his candle and went to bed. The others sat down to more pipes 
and whist. 

But not long did they play or smoke in peace. From out of the bed-chamber of the 
squire, preceded by a few preliminary snorts, there issued a clang and clamor of sound 
that startled them all. A deep sepulchral groan was followed by a strangled shriek; a 
suff'oeated roar gave place to an explosive howl. To suppose that these sounds were 
human, that they proceeded from one mouth, was impossible. 

^ The amiable Frank sprang up, and rushed six steps at a time to the rescue ; Mr. 
Spooner followed, armed with the poker ; Sir George seized a gun from the wall ; Cap- 
tain Crabshawe grasped his cards like grim death (he had three honors among them), 
and looked round indignant — j’et afraid. 

The two reached the squire’s room in a trice, expecting to And him struggling with 
some sea-monster in a deadly contest. But he was alone, and, as they rushed in, he 
opened one merry blue eye and said, — * 

“ Hullo, Spoon! coming to bed, eh? ” 

“ My dear squire — ]\Ir. Joscelyn, we heard the most fearful sounds — the most awful 
noise from this room ! Are you ill ? ” 

“ HI ! no. Noise ! nothing of the kind. T haven’t been to sleep yet. Good night — 
Frank — Spoo ? ” 

His eyes closed, his mouth opened, his great breast heaved with such a mighty breath 
of wind, no wonder there was a struggle to get it out. Then it came with a rush, a 
roar, a moan, a groan ! 

“ Mr. Joscelyn, arouse yourself! You must be ill — in a fit ! ” 

“Hullo! can’t you let a man sleep quietly? I believe I snore a little — at least, 
Elizabeth says ” 

And again his eyes closed ; again he struggled, roared, groaned. They watched him 
lor some time, and perceiving that there really was nothing the matter with him, that 


HOTV THE CLOUD OF SMOKE GRADUALLY ENVELOPS. 27 

lie was, in fact, in an unconscious state of bliss, they left him and returned to *heir 
game. 

The captain still grasped his three honors. Sir George still shouldered his gun. But 
reassured, they began to play. 

“ Can nothing be done to stop that noise?” exclaimed the captain, as he trumped 
his partner’s trick with one of his honors, though he had the two of trumps handy — 
had any trump been needed. 

“ We shall not be able to sleep all night,” said the captain. 

“I share his room,” murmured Mr. Spooner: “it is like a discharge of cracked 
artillery I ” 

“ I find it in my heart, for the first time, to pity a woman. When can Mrs. Joscelyn 
have got her rest ? ” 

“ She does not seem to suflTer, Crab, judging by her looks.” ^ 

“ She doesn’t. Summers — there you are right. I don’t mind acknowledging that, for 
a woman, Mrs. Joscelyn is not wholly detestable.” 

“ You have not thought very ill of Miss Daintree, lately, Crabshawe, judging by the 
manner in which you have been flirting with her the last few days.” 

“Ha! ha I” (aloud) “he’s jealous!” (to himself). “Well, she isn’t a. bad sort of 
girl, as girls go. I am not a marrying man, as all the world knows — and I sincerely 
hope she does also. But ’tis diflerent with you, Follett. Your situation is such that 
you are bound to marry — poor unfortunate fellow ! And so this I will say, as you 
must marry, why, choose little Kate, and you won’t go far wrong.” 

(Why did not Mr. Summers rise and protest, as he had done in the case of Miss 
Severn, against the impropriety of familiarly naming a lady without her proper title? 
Sir George perhaps did not give him time, for he answered hotly), — 

“Thank you for nothing! I may marry, and I mayn’t; but at all events, I shall 
marry whom I please, without consulting Captain Crabshawe ! ” 

“ I daresay you will ; but let me tell you, you are a young fellow that wants advice ; 
and knowing that, I give it to you, and it is, marry Miss Daintree, and you will have as 
good a wife as circumstances will permit.” 

“ That is poor praise, Crabshawe,” interrupted Mr. Spooner. 

“ Miss Daintree is scarcely so pretty as charming ! ” said Frank. 

“ Come, come, I don’t want to quarrel with you all ! ” 

“You will do so, sir, if you thrust your advice on people who don’t want it — who 
despise it ! ” 

“ We win the rubber,” interrupted Frank, hoping to stem the tide now surging be- 
tween these two Puffites ; “ a treble, a single, and the rub.” 

“ People always despise what they mostly require,” retorted the captain. 

“ Come, come,” interposed Mr. Spooner, “ don’t say any more that it requires femi- 
nine tongues to provoke a wrangle. Shake hands, and let us go to bed.” 

His mediation was as useless as Frank’s. So, taking advantage of a calm in the 
squire’s lullaby, he went off to bed. 

Summers took a few turns up and down the open corridor, from wiience he could 
see the Island of Lufi*, peacefully slumbering in the translucent embrace of a moon- 
beam. 

How the captain and Sir George ended their dispute is not known. 

It seemed, however, to have awakened in the frame of Sir George the nerve Opinia- 
tum ; for he never lost an opportunity of reflecting upon the merits of Miss Daintree, 
whenever her name was mentioned ; though secretly all the while he was mightily 
enamored of her. Captain Crabshawe is by no means the first person who has spoiled 
a match by talking of it beforehand. 

Human nature is very weak, of which we have already recorded one or two instances. 
But in the matter of giving and receiving advices, it is more puerile and pig-headed 
than under any other circumstances. 

One more day at Pufl*, when w'e will leave their manly, jovial company, and proceed to 
visit the meeker, milder society of the ladies. The squire, intent only upon getting to 
bed, and unable to suppose there was anything against so simple a measure, had not 
observed that there were no sheets on his couch. He snoozed away comfortably all 
the night between the blankets. Captain Crabshawe was personally indifferent as to 
sheets, so did without. Sam made his master’s bed with infinite labor, assisted by Mr. 
Spooner and Mr. Summers, and assisting them in return. 

So the Puffites reposed peacefully, the first night of their liberty in their kingdom of 
Puff. 

By daybreak the squire awoke, like a giant refreshed, and, with towel in hand, gayly 
carolled down to the beach. Once in the sea, he took advantage of unlimited space 
and inexhaustible water, to disport himself after the manner of a lively and white- 
skinned hippopotamus. 

This employment sent him up to the “Palace of Freedom,” “hungry as a work- 
house boy,” to use his own expression. His great heart failed him, as, arriving, he 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


28 

looked around and saw not only an entire absence of anything like preparations for 
breakfost, but everything in exactly the same state of disorder as when he went to bed. 
Dirty plates, the abominable coffee, unwashed wineglasses, ashes of tobacco, cups and 
saucers all strewn about — and not a soul stirring ! 

The squire, incapable of doing any deed quietly, generally apportioning his strength 
by the barometer of his feelings, split the door open into the kitchen, and extracted 
from their sleeping quarters Scruttles — who looked more hideous than ever asleep — 
with one hand, and Sam with the other. 

Setting them a noble example of activity, he was not long ere he had effected a won- 
derful change for the better in all the arrangements. 

Even Sam preferred exerting himself to being kicked; and Scruttles, as we have 
seen, w\as only too anxious to please. 

Breakfast was laid in an efficient and masterly manner; the kettle was boiling in 
flrst-ratc style ; slices of ham were all cut ready to broil ; and at the end of an hour, 
hot, thirsty, but highly pleased with himself, the squire sat down to survey his work. 

Of course he had made a prodigious noise about it, and his companions, finding it 
impossible to sleep, made a virtue of necessity, and turned out. 

Just as the squire sat down and was wiping his brows, Spooner appeared, towel in 
hand. 

“ Ah! Spooner, I’ll accompany you, and have another dip in the sea. I shall eat my 
thumbs if I stay here any longer waiting breakfast.” 

As they returned from their bath they wmre gratified by seeing Frank pouring out 
the tea. An amiable odor of fried ham permeated the balmy air; and, for want of 
something better, a lot of steaming eggs jostled each other in snowy contour in the 
slop-basin. It Avas a luxurious, a delicious breakfast. 

The squire called for dish after dish of broiled ham, and “ brochured ” the teapot 
twice — feats that excited the admiration of his companions, to say nothing of their 
satisfaction. For the squire in good humor, and the squire in the dumps, made as 
much difference in their comfort as we are taught there exists in two other worlds — 
tlioso placed above and below this terrestrial globe. 

Leaving them thus happy, we will unfold the wings of imagination, and fly to the 
Island of Luff. 


CHAPTER IV. 


“ luff” it is. 

If the ladies were not so rampant in spirits as the gentlemen on their departure 
from civilized life, they were by no means in a melancholy mood. . 

That love of change, even adventure, which is the general characteristic of natives 
of the British Isles, was fully developed in them ; and without any misgivings as to 
their happiness, they returned the cheers of the gentlemen with waving of handker- 
chiefs and cheerful farewells. 

Their boat was, strange to say, less encumbered with luggage than that of the gen- 
tlemen ; but they had two dogs, a kitten, and a canary. 

In the bow of the boat sat one of those sturdy, shiny -faced, active-looking servants 
that are seldom to be seen nowadays. A bonnet of portentous size, elaborately 
decorated with extraordinary bows of ribbon, adorned her head. A large plaid shawl, 
of every hue under the sun, was violently pinned across her chest. She had a band- 
box in each hand, and one at her feet, tied over with a colored cotton handkerchief. 

If there was any lurching of the boat, any up-and-down movement, she grasped her 
two boxes tighter, and looked at the one at her feet, as if she must take it in her 
teeth. Evidently Susan had made up her mind to follow her mistress to the world’s 
end, to share her dangers, and accept the same fate. But she must have her three 
bandboxes with her, even if that fate was drowning. 

They had a long pull to their island, and, as is the fashion of ladies, they imagined 
their boatmen must be dying of fatigue, and so called on them to* rest every now 
and then. 

A slight ground swell rendered these stoppages moments of apprehensive misery to 
one or two. Mrs. Spooner turned white, then green, and then cried, and begged 
them, in her confusion, to put her down somewhere. 

Susan also turned blue and yellow, though still sitting bolt upright, still grasping 
her two boxes, and keeping an eye on the third. Finally, Susan had to succumb ; and 
losing her boxes, groaned over the side of the boat, declaring, “that she had as lief 
be dead at once I ” 


29 


“luff*’ it is. 

However, all things, disagreeable and otherwise, have an end. The grating of the 
keel of the boat against the shingly beach of their little kingdom gave tliem all a thrill 
of delight. They jumped on shore with alacrity; the boatmen helped to carry up their 
things to the house, and receiving each a bottle of beer and some food, they departed, 
with hearty wishes for the ladies’ happiness and welfare. 

The house on Luff was merely a shell of a building, fitted up by subscription among 
the Rampton people, for the use of picnic parties. 

When the gentlemen remarked that it was a better house than that on Puff, it cer- 
tniuly was handsomer, more airy, and more gayly decorated. But for useful purposes 
it was very deficient. 

There was one large room, generally called “the ballroom;” and very large and 
desolate it looked to our poor Luflitcs, as they arrived and took possession. Out of 
the ballroom, by small shabby folding-doors, they entered a tea-room, which was now 
fitted up as a bedroom for Mrs. Joscelyn and her little daughter Bessie. At the back 
of these two rooms was a good-sized kitchen, with a small one adjoining. Over these 
were two bedrooms, the approach to which was by a staircase near the kitchen door. 
There were no rooms over the saloon and tea-room, they being as lofty as the back of 
the house. 

Mrs. Joscelyn had herself superintended the cleaning and freshening of the house, 
and had arranged the bedrooms. She was the only one who had been to the island 
since the challenge, but her companions had often visited it on other occasions. Either 
a sudden conviction of their lonely condition, or a misgiving as to the comfort of living 
in this odd house, began to dawn upon their minds ; but certainly the expression on 
each face was a little doleful. 

Mrs. Joscelyn alone wore a cheerful aspect. 

“Light every fire at once, Susan,” said she; “you see they are all laid ready ; and 
then put the sheets and blankets to air before them. This room I took for Bessie and 
me, because I thought it best I should be on the ground fioor. Susan also has the innci 
kitchen for her room, and — come up stairs. Here you see I have had your own beds 
put, my dears — one on each side of the window. This corner of the room I had 
screened off with a curtain for your bath-room ; and on this landing, here is another 
curtain, underneath which jmu can hang your dresses. This room, Arabella, being the 
smallest, I have appropriated to your sole use. You sent your own furniture over, and 
I have arranged it to the best of my ability ; but if you take my advice, j'ou will let us 
have the cheval glass in the saloon — it will help to fill up the vacant spaces of that 
desolate apartment; and your room will be much more comfortable without it.” 

“I had no idea I was to have this little poky room,” answered Mrs. Spooner. 

“ Would you like to share mine, and I will send Bessie up here? ” 

“No, thank you — not for to-night. I see all my things are unpacked, and nicely 
arranged. I feel still very poorly, and have not strength to change.” 

“ I daresay we shall all amuse ourselves by changing our arrangements from time to 
time. You can try how you like this room for a few nights. But the cheval 
glass ” 

“ Oh ! yes — take it; but who is to take it down stairs? I must say, Mrs, Joscelyn, 
T cannot conceive why you did not permit us to bring a proper quantity of servants.” 

“ My reasons were many. In the first place, servants here would be rather in our 
way ; secondly, they would not have borne the life we must lead, and we should have 
lost the challenge from their fault, and not our own ; thirdly, Susan is a peculiar ser- 
vant — she has a temper. The only way to keep it in order is to give her so much to 
do ; she has not time to think of grievances. Had she a fellow-servant tliere would be 
nothing but incessant bickering. As it is, she is rather proud that I have selected her 
to accompany us. I have so far confided in her as to tell her of the challenge ; and I 
don’t think there is one amongst us more anxious to gain the victory. Are my reasons 
siifiicient for you ? ” 

“ They arc unanswerable, I think,” said Clara. 

“ Clara',” thought Mrs. Spooner, “ has no right to answer for us all. I was going 
say something the same, but now I won’t. She is too forward ! ” 

So the neiwe Opiniatum in Mrs. Spooner’s head, where it always lived, and never 
went further, made her say, — 

. “ Not at all. Why are servants to be considered more than ourselves ? ” 

“ Fortunately I have still another reason, and that has reference to ourselves only. 
I argued to myself that if we were going to live here for a month, to make the time 
pass'tolerably we must lead lives wholly different from what we did at home. We must 
have all the excitement that variety gives to make the time go.” 

“ Oh I my dear aunt — make the time go ! You don’t mean to insinuate we shall be 
dull ! ” 

“ I won’t answer for you. Kitten, but I think I shall be dull myself, unless I help 
Susan to make pies and puddings, dust my own sitting-room, make my own bed, and 


80 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


lead the life of an everlasting sort of picnic. I brought no more servants tiiat we 

might have the enjoyment of being our own. , t i n i i + 

“ A very good idea, Mrs. Joscelyn ; during this month I shall make myself an adept 
in house-cleaning aud cooking. As I have heard it said, the more a mistress knows of 
a servant’s duties, the better she is served.” 

“ Why, "OSsip ! gossip ! is this you talking of being mistress of an establishment ! 
Ah ! you may blush ! Well, I am supposed to be an innocent little atom of humanity ; 
but' still I am very glad I flirted with Captain Crabshawe last Wednesday evening, a 
little before or after ten o’clock, even if he brings me into court for a breach of promise 
of marriage.” 

“ You conceited little kitten ! ” 

I don’t despair of it. I assure you I rather like flirting. I have a little experience 
in it, and my experience tells me I could soon wheedle Captain Crabshawe out of his 
heart.” 

“If he has one, Kate.” 

“ That is true, Mrs. Spooner, if, as you say, he has one. I am inclined to think he 
has, only it has been long locked up in some dusty old corner of his frame, and he has 
forgotten where he put it. Should he chance to And it, what a scrubbing aud brushing 
and brightening the poor thing will have to undergo, so long unused ! ” 

“ Arabella,” interrupted Mrs. Joscelyn, “ here is a cup of hot tea, which will do you 
good after your voyage. Then I should advise you to lie down for a while, aud when 
you feel quite yourself come down stairs and be surprised.” 

Which she was. 

No one could have said that the Lulfltes had any care or deje* :ion or fear in their 
hearts had they seen them, when Mrs. Spooner joined them again. 

The great empty ballroom was wholly metamorphosed. Large folding screens 
divided it into two parts, one taking in three windows and the other two. In the 
small half everything was arranged as for a dining-room. In the larger, Mrs. Spooner 
acknowledged she had never seen a prettier drawing-room. From whence Mrs. Joscelyn 
hod procured her pretty muslin curtains, her few pictures, amongst them the spirited 
likenesses of her two boys, her comfortable chairs, sofas, writing-tables, screens, 
ornamental china, and a hundred other things that added beauty and elegance, as well 
as a home-look to their aforetime dreary abode, no one could tell, for no one had seen 
their departure or arrival. 

She enjoyed their delight. 

“ Where there is a will there is a way,” said she ; “ though we were banished from 
male society, there was no necessity to forget that we were ladies, and so required 
elegant aud pretty things about us. You see your cheval glass, Arabella, is very 
ornamental — especially now that Clara has hid the frame with muslin festoons. Can 
you suggest anything to improve our drawing-room? ” 

Mrs.^’Spooner thought she could, but at present what the exact improvement was she 
was not prepared to say — it would come to her mind by degrees. 

“Very well,” said Mrs. Joscelyn, “ that is what I like — change of all sorts. Now, 
suppose, as it is past three o’clock, and we don’t dine until five, that we go and survey 
our dominions. After to-day, you know, we have agreed to keep early hours — dine at 
one, tea at seven.” 

“ Susan says,” interrupted little Bessie, all eagerness, “ that we must go to the well 
for water. It is such a ridiculous well, that when the tide is high the 'water is salt — 
when it ebbs, then the water is flt for use. So this 2S just the time.” 

The palace of the kingdom of Luff was placed in a small sheltered grove of trees. 
These trees were but stunted affairs by way of trees. Nevertheless, all bolstered up 
together, they endeavored to look imposing; and but for an inevitable leaning all one 
way, which gave them the appearance of a flock of school-boys, half frightened, and 
half brave, leaning one against the other for boldness and support, they would have 
done very well. 

As it was, they sheltered the abode of the Lufiites from a blusterous and always in- 
tiaiding west wind ; and they led, through their slanting stems, down to a little glade, 
out of which sparkled, not one well, as Bessie said, but nine. ’Tis true, all these wells 
sprung but from one source, but there were nine distinct mouths to that source, each of 
which had been provided with a rude but picturesque stone cistern. 

Nothing could be wilder or prettier than the scene. The water was bubbling up 
with an underground murmur that suggested the music of the fairies ; while the three 
girls, running to and fro, filling their pitchers at different cisterns, and making the dell 
echo with their merry laughter, caused even Mrs. Spooner to utter aloud her delight. 

She and Mrs. Joscelyn were not permitted by the younger ones to draw the water. 
They were to sit still and look on, until Susan cried “ enough ! ” This being said, they 
all proceeded to walk round their dominions. 

Luff was not more than two miles long, and five round. It was not composed of 
high cliffs and hills and dales, like Puff, but was rather flat. In fact, the house was on 


31 


“luff’’ it is. 

the liigliest part of it. There were several pretty little sheltered coves, delicious little 
dwellings for mermaids, and in one of them they decided to enact the part of sirens, 
and learn to swim. 

Altogether they found so much to like and admire in their new kingdom, that it 
wanted only ten minutes to dinner when they reached their palace again. 

“ Luckily we need not dress for dinner here,” said Mrs. Spoonor, throwing herself 
down on an easy-chair, and divesting herself of the hat with green ribbons, her gloves 
and shawl. 

“ Do as 3mu please,” replied their queen — “I mean to dress. No doubt you will find 
Susan has taken hot water to your room.” 

This hint was of the broadest order. Mrs. Spooner, looking cross, slowly rose, and 
went to her room. She had scarcely reached it when Bessie followed her, carrying her 
hat, shawl, and gloves, that she had left behind. 

“A forfeit,” said Bessie, smilng, “to all those who make a mess of the drawing- 
room ! ” 

“ Pooh ! pooh ! child — tell your mother I can’t be bored by such things ! ” 

“ I will be your maid, then,” said Bessie ; “ I will just run and get myself ready foi 
dinner, and be back again in no time.” 

And the pretty smiling child was as good as her word, but the dinner gong sounded 
before Mrs. Spooner had done more than change her shoes. 

“ Please, ma’am,” said Bessie, mimicking Susan, “I must run down and obey the 
gong.” 

“ No, Bessie, don’t go. How could they have dinner without asking if I was ready? ” 

“I must go, Mrs. Spooner, or mamma will be displeased.” 

“ Then be so good as to say I won’t have any dinner at all, unless I am waited for as 
I ought to be.” 

“Come down as you are — that is best. Let us all dine together the first day,” 
pleaded Bessie. 

Mrs. Spooner silently acquiesced in this advice, and was so far mollified on perceiv- 
ing she was waited for (as the dinner was already on the table, without any of them 
sitting down to it), that she murmured a sort of apology. 

Still more did she feel she was in the wrong when she gazed around and saw them 
all looking so fresh and pretty in their muslin dresses, donned as they were in such 
haste. 

Mrs. Joscelyn was at that age of beautifhl English womanhood — thirty-two. Her 
dress, of blue muslin, was fastened at the throat with a bow of blue ribbon, and a 
sash of the same color was wound round her -waist and tied with a large bow. A blue 
ribbon confined her hair. What with the bloom on her cheeks caused by her walk, or 
the haste with which she had dressed, Mrs. Spooner thought she had never seen her 
look so handsome. 

There was also in her countenance a spirit and decision that said as plain as words 
could say, — 

“ There are certain rules I mean to maintain here, which are for our happiness and 
comfort. I would rather lose the challenge than forego them.” 

Mrs. Spooner came to the conclusion, before dinner was over, that she would obey. 
Nevertheless, she would have a little revenge first — or rather, she would show a little 
spirit, too. 

“ Clara,” she began after dinner, “ I want the fiag.” 

“ What for ? ” asked Clara. 

“ I want to summon Augustus. I forgot to tell him to wear his flannel waistcoats.” 

“ I heard you tell him that just before he left.” 

“ Then not to wet his feet.” 

“ He may wet his feet a dozen times over before I mil incur the risk of losing our 
cliallenge.” 

“ Oh ! Clara, how unkind ! Is she not unkind, Mrs. Joscelyn? ” 

“Don’t you think your husband will consider you the most unkind to summon him 
over here at this time of the evening, merely to tell him what his omi sense will 
probably suggest ? ” 

“ True. I did not think of that. But suppose we desire to hoist the flag — where 
can we do so ? ” 

“ Mr. Summers showed me how to do it, and said we should find a flag-staff running 
up by one of the trees nearest the house.” 

“ We will go and look for it after dinner,” said Mrs. Joscelyn. 

Those people have the truest tact who fight with the weapons of their adversary. 

Mrs. Spooner did not allude to the flag again, and ran up, when dinner was over, to 
dress, assisted by Bessie. 

The dinner ought to be described, as that at Puff has been given. 

The ladies had no soup. It is fair to presume that if they had brought with them 


lords and ladies. 


32 

portable soup, Susan would have taken care to wash out the saucepan before it was 

USGCl 

The dinner consisted of two fowls, roasted to that nicety for which Susan was 
famous. Little sippets of bacon adorned them. The bread sauce was excellent, slight- 
ly flavored with mushroom powder. They had also a beefsteak, very hot, just lightly 
flickered over with milk-white shavings of horseradish, and barred across with marks 
of the gridiron. Potatoes delicately browned under the roasting fowls, and a dish 

of artichokes. , . , . ^ ^ 

An omelette sovffl'ee, flavored and impregnated with apricot jam, finished the repast. 

Its appearance gave high satisfaction, not only because it was a dish of ravishing 
nature, but it was a mark of Susan’s entire contentment and peace of mind. She only 
favored the world with it on great and solemn occasions, when she was satisfied with 
all and everything round and about her. 

“Keally, Susan,” said her mistress, “you never made a better one — or one more 
beautiful to look at. How it would have delighted your master ! ” 

“It’s the oven, mum,” answered Susan; “and nobody to w^orrit one. I had my 
thowts of the oven the moment I clapped eyes on ’em, mum. And it haven’t deceived 

me no ways. There’s a power o’ difl’erence of ovens, mum ; some on ’em is as sense- 

less as a new-born babby, and t’others is as fractious as if cutting their teeth. And I 
mind an oven as I once lied to cook wi’, and ye wad most hac thowt it wor a Clirces- 
tian, it wor that liumorsome. Iloosumdever, I mastered him. Purty things, thou’st 
cum tye, Suesen, says I, if thou lets an oven be masterful owre ye ! ” 

It was not often that Susan spoke in the company of what she was pleased to term 
“ her betters.” 

But as her tongue kept up a clatter like a mill-wheel at home, and she had no one on 
whom to exercise its power in the kitchen at Luff, she was fain to keep it in use by 
talking to the ladies. 

The ladies having dined, and, as we have seen, fared sumptuously, the two young 
ladies and Bessie assisted Susan to clear away. Miss Severn undertook the care of the 
silver, and Miss Daintree of the china and glass, while Bessie dubbed herself mistress 
of the napery department. The two elder ladies took a stroll, and found the flag-staff 
described by Mr. Summers. 

As soon as she saw it, Mrs. Spooner apostrophized it, — 

“ Ah I there you are ; but never — never shall you be be used by me — flagstaff! If 
Augustus elects a Captain Crabshawe as his companion and friend in preference to his 
wife, ho may do so. I have ray thoughts about it, but I will reserve them until we 
meet. My pride is too great for remonstrance now — but we shall see ! ” 

“ I don’t think pride is of much use between a husband and wife, Arabella. Augus- 
tus wished to show his independence, and made use of the subterfuge of desiring an 
unlimited area for the purpose of smoking. You don’t care how much he shows his inde- 
pendence, provided it is only show ; while permission to smoke forever will probably 
cure him of smoking at all — but not if you continue to chafe about it.” 

“ Submit, and say nothing I Oh ! Mrs. Joscclyn, it is not in human nature to do it ! ” 

“ I don’t wish to force my advice upon you, but I certainly intend to be forbearing 
and merciful when the trial is over. I cannot imagine for one moment that they will 
remain quiet a whole mouth, with no other society than their own. In the first place. 
Captain Crabshawe is in temper as fretful as any baby, as pettish as any woman, and 
will resent the most triflng affront, until he tires out the best temper among them. 
And there is nothing in his character that will make it a gratification to bear with his 
peevishness rather than forego his company. He is neither clever, nor agreeable, nor 
good-natured. To live a whole month with such a man will send my husband home 
meek as a mouse, that is, if he does remain the month. Sir George and Mr. Summers 
have always rather disliked him. Mr. Spooner will be the last to give him up.” 

“ Ah ! you agree with me ; his temper and Captain Crabshawe’s are alike.” 

“Very far from it. Your husband’s temper is so good that he will be the last to 
quarrel with him. My husband will be the first, not because his temper is a quarrel- 
some one, but because he has no control over it. Whatever he thinks will come out.” 

“ Every day proves to me more and more that if a 'woman wishes to be happy she 
ought not to marry.” 

“ And every day proves to me more and more that it is a woman’s profession to marry. 
Men go into the Army, the Navy, the Church; they are lawyers, and doctors, and mer- 
chants, and in that way they make use of the talents or gifts the Almighty has bestow- 
ed on them ; while woman, in the nursery, learns to be a good daughter, an atfectionate 
sister, which prepares her for being a loyal wife and a fond mother, and for that she 
was created ; for that she has been gifted with an enthusiasm you don’t find in men ; 
with a patient and hopeful mind, that carries her through minor difficulties that no man 
would tolerate ; w’itli a quickness of wit, and a courage under trials, that enables her 
to grapple with domestic troubles that would leave a man stranded and helpless. Thus, 
If we are tolerably well-behaved to each other, and occupy our volatile minds with 


“luff” it is. 


33 


plenty of woman’s work, and endeavor to amuse each other with little flights of fancy, 
and W’himsicalities that we women love, the month will he gone ere we think it has 
begun. But I am sorry for the gentlemen — they cannot knit, sew, sing, and play. 
They are but poorly gifted with the art of amusing each other. They will smoke until 
they are all bilious ; they will shoot until they know every rabbit left on the island ; they 
will play whist half the day, wrangling over it ; they will yawn over their books, and 
only feel pretty lively when dinner is announced.” 

“ What a character you gire of them ! Don’t complain of mine for the future — you 
are much more severe.” 

“ Only while they are alone, recollect. When we are with them all their better feel- 
ings are called into play. They are courteous, entertaining, excellent gentlemen. Our 
presence brings forth these virtues. We must certainly win the challenge — I don’t 
see liow it can be otherwise — but we must have no nonsense, Arabella.” 

What do you mean, Mrs. Joscelyn? ” 

“ Come, give me a kiss, and promise me that you will be punctual, lively, active, and, 
above everything, kind in your thoughts to the absent Augustus.” 

“ He is so diflerent from what he was.” 

“ Oh ! nonsense. He sees, as all sensible persons see, that to go on with your little 
love follies is simply absurd. You are his dear wife, than whom he loves nothing 
better. You will believe that without requiring him to go about the world proclaim- 
ing it. Did I not hear you call him ‘Poppet’ one day, and did not his friends laugh 
at him? But see, here are the girls ! How I have chattered — I believe, though ser- 
monized. Well, maidens, have you done all your duties? ” 

“Yes, mother,” replied Bessie, “ and Susan has given us so much praise — we are 
quite conceited. She says if she only had us for fellow-servants, she never need scold 
again.” 

“ Don’t believe her — you would, at the end of a week, be in as much disgrace as 
Ellen and Jane. In fact, Bessie, I prophesy you will have Susan’s ‘ mind,’ which is 
her word for an outburst of temper, before that time.” 

“ Then I will give her mine.” 

“ I should like to settle some plan for employing our days,” observed Clara. “ They 
say ‘ man is the creature of habit.’ I shall not bo shocking Captain Crabshawe’s feel- 
ings, three miles between us, if I presume that women share in this inference.” 

“ I know Pussie does. See, gossip, how she is rushing in and out among the trees. 
Seven weeks ago she opened her eyes upon this vain but delightful world, and from 
that time she appointed her hours for play, her time for repose, and her moments for 
reflection, and never has she swerved one iota from either.” 

“ Just like my canary, cousin. He does the same thing every day, almost at the 
same minute.” 

“ Then as my gossip wishes us to imitate the wise conduct of Pussie and Dickey, 
proceed, aunt, with your orders, and apportion out our time.” 

“ I think we need not be quite so particular as those beloved pets of yours. In the 
flrst place, I must not neglect Miss Bessie’s education. She must go on wuth her 
lessons.” 

“Oh! how disagreeable! I am Mrs. Spooner’s ladys-maid, and Susan’s kitchen- 
maid. Surely I need not be little Bessie Joscelyn at school? ” 

“ Oh, yes, do, Bessie ! because it will be an amusement to me to teach you music,” 
pleaded Kate. 

“ And I should like to go on drawing with you,” said Clara. 

“ And, Bessie, I should like to teach you something,” echoed Mrs. Spooner. 

“ Oh! this is too bad!” replied Bessie, half tearfully; “ if you all mean to employ 
yourselves on my education, I shall become too clever to bear myself.” 

“ Don’t fear, Bessie,” said her mother. “ Our capabilities of teaching are your safe- 
guard, and I prophesy the lessons will be more to your mind than play. Now, let us 
go home, for the evening shadows are falling fast. Look, Arabella, from this point we 
have a perfect view of Puff, and the light from the setting sun is so strong, if we had 
a glass we might perhaps see our husbands walking about and smoking.” 

“ I can see the smoke,” observed Mrs. Spooner, just a little sighingly. 

“ We will hope that is from their chimnej'S, not their pipes. Blow them a kiss, as I 
will, I bear them no malice ; the only thing I begin to fear is that I shall like this life 
too well ! ” 

“Mrs. Joscelyn,” whispered Mrs. Spooner, “look at Clara, how spellbound she is, 
looking at Puff! How pretty her earnest proflle is against the rosy sky ! ” 

“Yes, I should not wonder if at this self-same hour another face is steadily looking 
this way from Puff! ” 

“ But I thought they had quarrelled; they seemed very cool to each other the last 
few days.” 

“ Perhaps that was a blind. You know Clara is of a sensitive, nervous nature. If 
6 


84 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


he proposed — which he mfiy have done — she has probably deferred her answer until 
our trial is over. Mr. Summers is a lucky man if he gains her for a wife. 

“ I don’t agree with you about his having proposed — or that he will be lucky if she 
accepts him : she has such a touchy temper. I prefer Kate inflnitely. 

“ Kate is nothing but a little lovable lively thing — she has not had a serious thought 
3'^et. She has not been tried as Clara has.” 

“ I never heard of any of her misfortunes.” 

“ She has had no startling or sudden griefs ; for her parents died while she was too 
voung to feel their loss. But her trials have been almost worse to bear than a great 
grief. God, however, is the comforter of the mourner, and throws a halo of heaven 
round one whom He hath chastened. But the wearisome, w^oful life of a fine-hearted 
spirited creature, left dependent on niggardly, narrow-minded relations, is a sad lot.” 

‘‘ But I thought Clara Avas independent, and had indeed a good fortune? ” 

“ Yes, now she has. Her story is rather romantic. We Avill get her to tell it to us 

some daj'.” • 

“ Oh ! here is that great brute of hers, Ruua — she will eat up my darling pet.” 

“ I told Susan to let Buna run loose every evening, as a safeguard.” 

“ Gracious heavens ! yes. Oh ! dear ! dear ! I begin to feel how rash it was for us to 
consent to come here ! Hoav could Augustus permit me to do so mad a thing ? It is be- 
coming quite dark I ” 

“ We shall be safe in the house. There are good locks and bolts to both doors and 
windows.” 

Once in the transformed saloon, now all ruddy and aglow with a bright little fire and 
two or three lamps, it had quite a home look, Avith the tea-things all laid, and the urn 
pulling and hissing; Mrs. Spooner forgot her fears. 

They spent a very pleasant evening, partly enlivening it with music and singing, part- 
ly by reading aloud, and a game of cribbage for Bessie. 

Pra^^ers at ten o’clock AA'ere succeeded by a general inspection of doors and windows, 
after Avhich they all Avent to bed, happy, but a little awed by their lonely and isolated 
condition. 

Thus we have fairly established the Pufls and LuflTs at last on their respective islands. 

It must be confessed that my “ Lords ” and “Ladies ” have nothing very remarkable 
about them. They are a set of people the types of Avhom Ave meet every day, and from 
whom Ave can expect nothing romantic, astonishing, or disgraceful. 

We have a jovial squire, and his sensible sweet-tempered Avife. We have an unin- 
teresting couple in Mr. and Mrs. Spooner ; a pair of lovers in the A^cry crisis of one 
thing or the other, in Mr. Summers and Miss Severn. W e have one of those pretty 
creatures to be met Avith anyAvhere — a lively', sunny-faced girl, just out of her teens, 
without a care, without a thought beyond the day ; and to match her is a gay young 
bachelor, caught, like a moth in the fiame of the candle, by her pretty, artless Avays, and 
rebounding from the torch, lest it should be Hymen’s. 

Captain Crabshawe seems the only one among them all likely to make or produce a 
sensation ; but neither mentally nor personally is he qualified to act the part of hero. 
He is too much of an old Avoman, be it said, to act the villain’s part, unless he goes into 
partnership Avith the “ excellent convict.” 

“ He, that “ excellent convict,” alone possesses the materials for making a sensation ; 
and at present all of the original devil that Avas in him is absorbed in the delightful and 
rare position, for him, of being in a paradise not only of unlimited “victual and drink,” 
but Avhere these are of a toothsome and savory kind. 

Kever had it occurred to him at any previous time, in his numerous adventures, to sit 
before a round of beef, Avith the liberty to carve for himself, and as often as he fancied ; 
with a large jack of beer flanking it, out of which he was free to pour as much as he 
pleased. 

This state of things had the effect of making the only villain amongst my corps dra- 
matique virtuous. He Avas compelled to be good, to please that part of his organization 
which is the first to show itself at our birth, and the last to leaA-e us in old age. 

Human nature (once more Ave moralize on this interesting theme, which has occupi(!d 
the Avorld since Eve was beguiled by the serpent, and Adam Avas beguiled by EA^e, and 
was mean enough to allow it) — human nature has certain rules from Avhich she never 
SAveryes. Amongst her most arbitrary laAvs is that one which binds her subjects to 
certain habits or fancies at certain stages of their existence. Solomon, our first philos- 
opher, has simply stated this truth by saying : “ There is a time for all things.” Time 
for mirth, for sorrow, for sleeping, for waking, for dancing and sitting still, for eating 
and drinking. 

Carrying on this thought through all the metaphysical branches that will lead up to 
the most sublime conceptions, and doAvn again to the merest statement of facts, let us 
bring it to bear on Scruttles — the “ excellent convict.” 

He had had his time for picking and stealing, his time for pains and imprisonment, 
his time for repentance and amendment ; and noAv he approached that period when, ac- 


PUFF ! PUFF ! 35 

cordin'? to the laws of human nature, a gastronomic mood should be the ruling passion 
of his life. 

Tor the sake of plenty of “ victual and drink ” Scruttles was ready to forego all other 
pastimes in which his soul had hitherto delighted. 

Eather than lose the prospect of perpetual cuts at that round of beef and unlimited 
quaffs from that jack of beer, he would try to speak the truth, refrain from taking pos- 
session of what did not belong to him, and endeavor to do his duty in his present walk 
of life. 

^ Thus, not even the brain of a Mrs. Eadcliffe could depict, or venture to create start- 
ling events, overwhelming horrors, and distracting mysteries, as occurring to our lords 
and ladies. 

With every disposition to make the most of the position in which they had placed 
themselves, through one of those accidental miffs that will arise between the best-tem- 
pered of either sex, there seems little prospect of having anything to relate, but that 
all heartily repented the challenge — all were extremely stupid and dull — all rejoiced 
to see each other again ; and the question upon which they split — namely, smoking — 
was almost entirely forgotten, until once more Mrs. Joscelyn renovated and beautified 
her house, and once more requested they would not contaminate her clean curtains by 
smoking. 

Nevertheless there is a certain difference between the rulers of the two kingdoms. 

Captain Crabshawe, as king of Puff, has already shown symptoms of an arbitrary 
and captious nature. He intends to govern his subjects by the laws of baiting and 
badgering. 

Mrs. Joscelyn, as queen of Luff, evidently means to rule her people by the arts of gen- 
tleness and persuasive gayety. 

There can be no question as to the result. 


CHAPTER V. 

PUFF ! PUFF ! 

Scruttles was not the only subject ruled by King Crabshawe, who had arrived at 
that phase of his existence called the gastronomic. 

The squire was in the full flood-tide of dainty and appetizing thoughts. When he 
dressed in the morning, with the first stroke of his razor he bethought him of the one 
cut across a kidney, to be broiled in its own gravy for breakfast ; or the first incision 
of the knife into a juicy, smoking beefsteak. As he pulled his socks up his well-shaped 
legs, he was reminded of devilled legs of turkeys ; as he saw himself in the looking- 
glass, getting into his clean white shirt, he regarded himself as a huge new-laid egg. 
In fact, there was scarcely a single phase in his dressing arrangements that did not re- 
mind him of breakfast in some shape or another. 

The squire did not sell himself to the insidious pleasures of luncheon, therefore he 
may be pardoned if he thought a good deal of his dinner. It began to occupy his 
thoughts just as the remembrance of his breakfast faded away, and occupied them more 
or less until it was absolutely discussed and done with. 

Sir George was a little fastidious about his meals, and generally devoted his attention 
to entrees and entremets^ having a sort of feeble idea that the sight of a large joint 
rather repelled him than otherwise. 

Mr. Spooner, on the contrary, felt that the very look of a magnificent round of beef 
was almost as good as the eating thereof. He was not exactly a Barmecide, but his 
enjoyment of his dinner had a great deal to do with its appearance. 

As for Frank Summers, he ate what was put before him, without word or comment ; 
and except in the matter of salads or fruit, seemed equally Indifferent as to whether it 
was beef, mutton, pork, or veal. 

Captain Crabshawe boasted that he could dine on bread and cheese ! — on nothing ! 
Eating was a farce — dinners a bore ! Why not go to the cupboard and eat when yon 
were hungry, without all this parade and nonsense? Nevertheless, King Crabshawe 
loved game and poultry in his heart. He liked to crunch their tender young bones be- 
tween his great teeth, and he always took up the legs between his fingers, and ate them 
as one supposes a Fiji would eat his wife. 

With all these different tastes, imagine our dear heroes, on the fourth day of their 
happy sojourn on the free island of Pull*, sitting down for the fourth time to dine on that 
round of beef— now merely a shadow of its former self— and the gaunt bone of the 
now skeleton ham. No excellent roasts for the squire, no delicacies for Sir George, 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


86 


nothing substantial to delight Mr, Spooner, not even the bone of a peewit for Captain 

^ Th^squir^had^Th^^^^ ominous frown on his brow which sat there on our first ac- 
quaintance with him. No longer faultlessly dressed, he appeared to have foi^ottmi 
all about the honor of dining with “ Jack Joscclyn, and was clothed in his shootin^- 



Fraiik alone cut away at the shadowy remains of the beef, as if it was the proudest mo- 

^^BcVncMiinirholding a plate, as if he surreptitiously designed to knock the amiable 
Frank’s brains out with it, stood the “ excellent convict.” Ilis countenance had as- 
sumed a new and peculiar aspect ; it bore the sad and wistful watchfulness of those 
of our ancestors who (if we are to believe the “Vestiges of Creation ”) still retain their 

No hungry, shivering, ill-used, blighted monkey, ever cast such quick, imploring, 
pitiful glances, as did Scruttles, sometimes being able to take in the countenance of 
each master at one glance. It made him more ugly than ever. ^ 

For, most extraordinary to relate, none of the gentlemen seemed to appreciate “Bush 
cooking. To-day was the third day that they had ordered an excellent dinner, the very 
ordering of which gave them an appetite for it, and yet there they were, not only still 
dining on cold beef and ham, but almost all the rest of their provisions used up. 

Yes, “ used up,” but never eaten. No roast legs of mutton for them — no juicy beef- 
steaks. The fillet of veal remained in the ashes where it had dropped — a blackened 
mass — and there was nothing left in the Puff’ larder but a neck of mutton, and the sir- 
loin of beef that was intended for their Sunday dinner. 

No wonder that Scruttles looked as if he bore on his pate the united miseries of the 
whole monkey tribe. By the very agony he himself felt at the prospect of losing this 
paradise of unlimited good, he knew what his “masters ” were enduring. And yet it 
was not his fault that, on the first day he cooked their dinner, they had forgotten to 
tell him that though the fashionable hour for dinner in Bush life, and among convicts — 
excellent or otherwise — was high noon, gentlemen dined at low sunset. 

Thus, when they returned from shooting — jocund and gay, hungry through very an- 
ticipation of eating the dinner they all had helped to order — was it his fault that they 
found it cold and miserable, as no doubt it would be, served up at one o’clock, and not 
uncovered until seven ? 

“ Cold mutton is my aversion! ” exclaimed Sir George. 

“ And covered with this beastly sauce,” said the squire, 
in a boat I ” 

“ Was this our apple dumpling? ” sighed Mr. Spooner. 

“ Apparently it was boiled with the mutton,” remarked Frank, as he flicked off* some 
capers from its collapsed form. 

Ills majesty Crabshawe said nothing, but partook of all the cold viands — even the 
cold potatoes and carrots, with an air of dignity and calm contentment that ought to 
have been a lesson to the others. 

He even ate the cold apple dumpling with the deliberate care and cantion requisite 
upon its first appearance in life, hot out of its cloth and basin. 

You could have sworn that he tossed a bit of apple to and fro on the tip of his tongue, 
to avoid the danger of scalding that useful member. 

The second day’s dinner lay in the ashes where it fell, after eight hours’ roasting. A 
fillett of veal was an article of food that Scruttles now saw probably for the first time. 
Its pale and flaccid appearance induced him to think it would require a vast deal of 
cooking. 

So he set it down to roast betimes ; and knowing that dinner was not to be until 
seven, he settled in his own mind that his masters must be obeyed, notwithstanding 
the evident demonstrations of the fillet of veal that it was snfliciently roasted long 
before. 


‘ which ought to have been 


“Ay, burn away! ye aggrawating wital, but I’m darned if you go on the table until 
seven strikes ! ” 

The third day’s dinner consisted of a rabbit pie, with some little extras. 

The gentlemen were so far reasonable, that they duly recognized the anxious desire 
of Scruttles to please, who, in his endeavor to anticipate their wishes, promised so 
much in his turn, that they were equally deceived as to what he could do. 

The opening of that pie, on this eventful fourth evening, settled all question of 
future dinners dressed by the “ excellent convict.” 

“ It does not look much amiss outside,” had the squire remarked, so he boldly in- 
serted the knife, and a hot steam rushed out. 

“ Good heavens ! ” he exclaimed, his handkerchief to his nose, “'what has he put in 
the pie?” 


PUFF ! PUFF ! 37 

Good gracious ! ” cried Sir George, rushing from the table, as the pungent steam 
penetrated his nostrils. • 

“ Faugh ! heaven and earth !” spluttered Mr. Spooner. 

• “ ' ” said Frank, ruminating. “ Scruttles, before you put those rabbits into that 

pie, did you did you — clean, skin, or truss, or whatever it is called — those rab- 
bits ? ” 

“ Anan ! ” answered Scruttles, looking hideous with perplexity. 

“ Did you paunch them? ” continued Frank. 

“Pmich ’em?” echoed Scruttles. 

“ Did 5 "ou put those rabbits into that pie just as we gave them to you, or did you 
clean ’em out ? ” roared the squire. 

“ Cleaned out ? ” replied Scruttle, to whom the phrase seemed to have a familiar 
though mournful sound. 

“ Scruttles, my man,” said the captain, “were you careful to clean and wash those 
rabbits liefore you put them into the pie ? ” 

“ Wash ’em! ” and this time there was astonishment depicted in a remarkably ugly 
manner in the countenance of Scruttles. “ Wash ’em ! No sir, we thinks as there be no 
surt o’ flavor in a beast like a rabbit. We do dress him all of a loomp-like, to make he 
tasty?” 

As he spoke, the ^quire drew forth the entire corpse of a rabbit out of the pie, which 
bore a sad resemblance to a drowned cat freshly Ashed out of a gutter. 

“ Cannot your man cook? ” asked Mr. Spooner, later on in the evening, as they all 
sat smoking. 

“ Sam, you mean ? ” said Sir George. “ We will ask. That pie ! ugh I ” 

Sam being summoned, the following colloquy took place : — 

“ Sam, can you cook? ” 

“ No, Sir George, but I have a good receipt for patent varnish! ” 

“ Sam, you can broil a mutton chop? ” 

“ No, sir. But I have a rare polish for top-boots ! ” 

“ Sam, can you do anything? ” 

Though psychologists make no mention oi the fact, yet it has been undeniably 
proved, from past history, as well as present experience, that men are as fully slaves to 
certain whims and fancies as the weakest woman .ever born. 

The crotchet of Sir George was for his servant Sam. Any insult to himself he*could 
have borne good-humoredly, as a gentleman should ; but reflect upon Sam, and you had 
him, as Shakespeare saith, “ on the hip ! ” 

“ Leave my servant alone, will you? he, at least, is respectable, which is more than 
can be said of that dirty, lying thief you have brought to poison us ! ” 

“ He does as he is bid, at all events, "whereas your fellow won’t even make the beds.” 
“ Please — Captain — I wasn’t born a house-maid, nor nothing of the sort,” said Sam, 
blubbering. 

“ IMaid, sirrah ! what do you mean by saying maid here? ” 

“Which reminds me that none of our beds are made at present. Come along, 
Spooner, and let us perform that necessary work.” 

“It appears to me,” remarked Spooner, as he assisted Summers, “that we are now 
verifying that proverb I have so often read in the Bible — it relates to making one’s 
bed, you know, and lying on it.” 

“ It’s a very good proverb, but it is not in the Bible, Spooner.” 

“ Now is it not? I thought all good sayings came from the Bible.” 

“ Most of them do, but there are a few worldly proverbs meandering about amongst 
us, that are both pithy and appropriate. What do you say to ‘ Too many cooks spoil 
the broth ? ” 

“ My good fellow, would that we had one ! ” 

“ You and I must turn cooks. The squire’s temper won’t stand any more cold beef, 
and the ham evidently is beginning to disagree with him. When we go back, after 
making these beds, let us ofler our services.” 

“ But I know no more of cooking, Frank, than this bolster.” 

“ Then the party will be broken up, t]i(3 challenge lost, before a week is out, and aU 
for so simple a reason that we could not boil our own potatoes.” 

“ Hang it ! I don’t mean ever to give in. There is an oddity, or rather I should style 
it a tenacity, in my wife’s memory, that will never permit her to triumph, if she does 
triumph. No, no, rather than be badgered and taunted all my days, I will study cook- 
ery, and be your kitchen-maid, on any terms.” 

“ With a cookery-book, I don’t see how we can fail. Women cook by receipts, I 
suppose ? ” 

“ Very true, Frank ; but what I fear is, we shall not understand the rudiments. Most 
receipts that I have seen appear to infer that we know everything already.” 

“Matters have arrived at that pass, we must do something. We have three more 


LORDS AND LADIES 


38 


dinners to provide for, and there is nothing in the larder but the sirloin of beef and a 

neck of mutton.” 

“ We have game — rabbits.” 
u Oh !_ oh ! — don’t mention them ! ” 

“We can make the rest of the beef into bubble-and-squeak. 

“ Where’s our cabbage ? — and which is bubble, and which is squeak? 

“ What a row they are making down stairs ! Crab and Sir ‘ Folly,’ as Scruttles calls 
him, as usual, quarrelling. We must go down and pour oil on the troubled waters.” 

“ Very good; and remember, in oflering ourselves as cooks, let us not forget to ask 
the gracious permission of our punctilious monarch.” 

“ AVhat an absurd old idiot he is ! I had no idea he was so utterly ignorant, not to say 

“ olie can only tell a person’s true character by living with him, and he certainly 

does not improve upon acquaintance.” 

“’Most certainly not! ” answered a crabbed voice close to them- “Follett grows a 
greater fool every day. He spoils the whole party with his absurd whims nnd tem- 
pers.” 

“ We must bear with him, nevertheless, Crabshawe; for if he goes home we lose the 

challenge.” . , , . , ^ . 

“ Humph ! ” growled the captain — “ deuced hard to put up with him — but anything 

is better than giving in.” ^ 

“ We two wish to know whether you will accept our services as cooks. 

“ Excellent ! — excellent ! — ah, my dear fellows, you give me new life.” 

“ You think of nothing but your stomach, squire,” again growled the king. 

“ Well, it is always thinking of me — we have a mutual liking for each other. Come, 
boys, come here, and let us talk it over.” 

“ Without consulting me ? ” 

“ We offered ourselves to you first.” 

“ Well, I suppose you did — go on, then.” 

“ I propose, my dear squire, that we have no consultation about it. Leave it to 
Spooner and me. We have so little left on which to experimentalize, that we are 
nervous, and a discussion might reveal to us such impossible ideas on your parts, that 
we should give up our situations at once.” 

“ Good heavens ! no — don’t do that. All I want is a hot mutton chop — that will 


dine me.” 

“ A dozen you mean, squire.” 

“ Hot and hot, between two hot plates,” quoth the squire, unheeding the interrup- 
tion. “ I shall be perfectly satisfied without another thing.” 

“ We will do our best to please you. One thii\g is certain — all that we do shall be 
cleanly done.” 

“ That’s a comfort, at all events.” 

“ I am sure Scruttles ” 

“ Intends that we should go to whist — come along, gentlemen. What with a rea- 
sonable amount of trumps, a steady reflecting partner, a good cigar, and a tumbler of 
cold whiskey and water, I am happy to say I envy no man.” Which cheery sentiment 
sounded all the more admirable from the squire’s lips, suflering as he was from three 
bad dinners in succession. 

It is astonishing what a difference it makes in a man’s “physique” whether he dines 
well or ill. We might enter into a long dissertation, collected from history, beginning 
at the remotest ages, and going on through centuries of barbarism — of wars, of peace, 
of glory, of luxuries, arts, literature, and refinement, and winding up with the squire as 
the latest known example of the power of the appetite over the mind. 

Women are less influenced by the seductions of the palate. 

Witness Eve, who only succumbed to the temptation upon learning that the fruit, 
though fair to look upon, was to be “ desired” because of the rare property it possessed 
of being able to “make her wise.” Is it not a well-known fact, that Napoleon lost the 
batti« of Waterloo because he made a bad breakfast? 

But why go on, interesting as the subject may be? It is necessary that we think of 
nothing but our Lords and Ladies. Nevertheless, the few remarks above are not 
irrelevant. The utmost justice is intended to be administered to both parties, and the 
reader is requested to draw his own inferences from the fact, that the Lords are start- 
ing on their trial under the most afflicting disadvantages. Their king is always out of 
temper, and they cannot get anything fft to eat — both evils of that kind least suited to 
their temperament and sex. While the Ladies are coaxed into good-humor and happi- 
ness, and dine royally every day, neither of which advantages is it in their nature and 
sex to care much about. 

With a becoming seriousness, that was much applauded by the squire, Frank had tied 
a dinner-napkin before him, by way of apron, and had covered his luxuriant curls with 
a paper cap, charmingly illustrative of the real man-cook. If he took such pains, and 


PUFF ! PUFF ! 39 

succeeded so well in merel}’’ looking like a cook, what might they not expect from his 
efforts to emulate the skill of one. 

Light-hearted and hopeful, the squire, the captain, and Sir George departed on a 
Ashing expedition, accompanied by Sam, the two cooks conAdently affirming that Scrut- 
tles would give them all the help they required. 

About two o’clock the Ashermen were to land, and send up their Ash to the house, to 
help out the dinner, which was accordingly done. 

Upon Sam’s return from taking it to the house, the squire eagerly asked how they 
were getting on. 

“ Mr. Spooner wor reading a yaller book, stretched out on the grass afore the dore, 
and Mr. Summers wor a-smoking ’is pipe on the balkerney, looking out on t’other 
hisland.” 

“ And Scruttles? ” 

“ He wor a-scratchen ’is hed, and linking at the t’others.” 

The squire shook his head, but his great heart was hopeful. The two new cooks 
had promised to do their best — it would be unpardonable if he doubted their word for 
a moment. But it must be owned he had some qualms, as they bent their steps home- 
ward, and seven o’clock drew near. • 

He would not venture into the kitchen, he might make them nervous. But he glanced 
at the dinner-table ; it looked as neatly and deftly arranged as if the butler at Deep 
Cliffs had laid it. 

Up stairs, too, unlike yesterday and the day before yesterday, all the beds were made, 
the rooms tidied, and their clothes put out to change. 

“Ah! ha!” exclaimed the squire, jocund, “ this is something like — I could almost 
imagine Elizabeth had been here ! ” 

“ And who is she ? ” Captain Crabshawe, in endeavoring to look severely ironical, 
simply assumed a more vinegary aspect than usual. 

His irony was lost on the squire. 

“ The best wife in Christendom,” quoth he ; “and I don’t care who says r” The 

last word was lost in the plunge the squire made into his bath ; submerging his head 
and face with such a glorious splatteration, such a gurgling and dousing, sucli a bub- 
bling and cascading, no wonder the captain stood for the moment transAxed with aston- 
ishment. But he had to beat a speedy retreat, in order to escape being “ douched ’* 
against his will. 

The two cooks sensibly felt the honor done them, as John Joscelyn, Esq., appeared 
all smiling and debonnaire, dressed for the evening. 

Now, whether Mr. Summers had mistaken his vocation in life, and selected to be a 
gentleman, and not a Arst-rate cook ; or whether Mr. Spooner had only now discovered 
that, remarkable in nothing hitherto, he would have made a name and a reputa- 
tion as a gastronomic regenerator ; or whether the previous dinners, being so utterly 
bad, made all others by comparison appear superlatively good, certainly this dinner, 
the coup d'essai of the new cooks, was a signal success. 

We do not mean to Aatter them by saying it was faultless. The soup was excellent — 
but then, taken out of its hermetically sealed tin, it only required heating, and that the 
saucepan should be clean, the tureen ditto and hot, and the soup plates also ; which 
diAcrent requirements were admirably performed. 

Then came the Ash. They were haddocks. They did not look nice, but they were 
boiled to a turn. The new cooks had forgotten that Ash are served on a drainer with 
a napkin. But they disappeared so rapidly, having a capital sauce to help them, that 
there was no time to make many comments on their appearance. 

And now came covered plates, between each a smoking-hot mutton-chop. The squire 
roared with delight, like a Ane old lion as he was. His fourth chop was a little burnt. 

“What matter?” quoth he; “I did not want it, only I thought it a compliment to 
our cooks to take it.” 

And now behold the crowning effort ; a large dish of bubble and squeak — though 
still the vexed question, of which was bubble and which was squeak, made Mr. Spooner 
look grave. The dish caused an inAnity of conversation. 

“ When Frank discovered the cabbages, thrust by that beast Scruttles into the pota- 
toe sack, he exclaimed, ‘Now for bubble and squeak!’” said Spooner, glowing with 
conscious virtue and revealed talent. 

“And when we perceived how little of them was At to cook after washing and clip- 
ping, how directly I remembered Soyer’s suggestion of potatoes to eke them out.” 

“Ha! ha!” laughed the squire. “ Colcannon is the best dish that comes to table.” 

“We have nothing coming but maccaroni ; for in truth we had no time — we had so 
much to do getting everything clean and tidy.” 

“ Why, Sam told us, when he returned from taking the Ash, you were reading — and 
Frank ” 

“ I was studying the cookery-book, I dare say, squire, and you know it is Frank’s 
peculiar business to look out for the Aag. Also the only time we had for a smoke.” 


40 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“ Far be it from me to say another word. I don’t hesitate to say I have dined like a 
king. Did either of you think of trying your hand at an omelette, now ? They say it 

is a simple thing.” ^ ^ 

“ So it is squire; but if you have an omelette, you cannot have the pleasure of your 
cook’s company to dinner. An omelette once mixed cannot be left until it is served.” 

“ Then don’t think of it, my dear Frank; I have enjoyed my dinner all the more from 
seelin’- you share it with us. I don’t know when I have had such fun. Not knov/ing 
what was coming, you know, and then wondering how it would bo cooked, and all being 
so clean and hot, and you two having done it all — why. King Crabshawe, I almost feel 
as if I could take you round the waist and execute a ^cUux temps’ with you.” 

“A ‘dew tong’ indeed ! — why, squire, I shall be surprised if you can waddle into 
the hall after eating such a dinner.” 

“ My dear Crab, it has made a man of me. I know I have a good appetite, but the 
doctors tell me as long as I take so much exercise, and go out all day and every day, I 
can’t eat too much. My blood circulates so fast, it is always in want of replenishment.” 

“ Thank my stars, I am in no such predicament ; any morsel does for me.” 

“ That is because your blood is stagnant, and never flows at all.” 

Mr. Spdoner, a little gone by the head, through vanity and self-satisfaction, was 
rash enough to lance thus at King Crab. Every claw he possessed thrust itself out, and 
proceeded to nip at the unfortunate new cook. 

“ Come, Spoon,” interposed the squire, “ don’t let us spoil the remembrance of our 
dinner by any wrangling.” , 

“Spoon! Mr. Joscelyn, have I not said I take it as a personal insult being desig- 
nated Spoon?” 

“Just like you! ” growled the captain; “you are as weak as those unfortunate crea- 
tures over at Luff. Why don’t I object to being called Crab? Simply because I am too 
sensible. I know there isn’t the shadow of a likeness between me and a crab — not the 
remotest, so naturally I don’t care.” ^ 

(The captain forgot crab vinegar.) 

“ But you, I suppose, think you are a spoon, and may be there is some truth in it.” 

It required all the squire’s influence, all Frank’s amiability, all Sir George’s good 
breeding, to assuage this quarrel. 

The squire carried off the captain, and administered to him a lion lecture. 

They were there as gentlemen, they met as gentlemen, they were to be treated as 
gentlemen. If Captain Crabshawe could not control his temper, which the squire was 
sorry to observe had broken bounds with all of them, why, the fairest thing to do, was 
to break up at once. The challenge was nothing, in fact, after all, in the squire’s mind 
— it was only a little sort of addition to a very pleasant scheme. Ilis heart was in the 
excitement of a frolic, a sort of sporting life, a time of agreeable sojourn with sport- 
ing friends. The challenge was merely to give a flllip to the whole affair. In his opin- 
ion, not worth the keeping if they were to be uncomfortable. 

“ I don’t know what you mean by saying I quarrel with you all? ” 

“ Then, of course, if you can’t see that the moment any one amongst us opens our 
lips you find fault with what we say, the best thing to do is to separate before we 
quarrel irrevocably, which, Crabshawe, I should really be sorry to do — an old friend 
like you.” 

“You are always talking of your Elizabeth.” 

“ And why should I not talk of her ? I love her — lam proud of her ; she -was always 
kind to you.” 

“ She would not let us smoke ! ” 

“And you won’t let us speak! Which is worst — eh? If I came to Puff to avoid 
being ordered about by Mrs. Joscelyn, by the lord Harry, I am not going to be snubbed 
and bullied by one of my own sex I ” 

“ Follett is such a fool, with his shirts and his man Sam! ” 

“ The other extreme, of no shirts and a villainous-looking convict to wait on us, 
seems equally foolish to us.” 

Perhaps a glimmer of this fact lit up a transient ray of sense in King Crab’s pate, or 
a sudden remembrance of the month’s saving in board and lodging made itself felt. 

“ My dear squire, I have been wrong. I ask your pardon ; the truth is, being the 
promoter and proposer of the scheme, the responsibility has been too much for me. 
With all your welfares of my heart, with the wish to make you all happy, I have per- 
haps been too anxious.” 

“ Ah, yes ! a great deal too anxious ; leave us to ourselves — let us each be happy in 
our own way. Crab.” 

“ I will, squire — I will ! Henceforward I will take no trouble.” 

“ By all means take no trouble. Crab,” echoed the squire, whose good heart would 
not suffer him to run the chance of breaking the peace again, by any minute inquiry as 
to what Captain Crabshawe considered “trouble.” Though he indemuifled himself in 
private by thinking to himself: 


PUFF ! PUFF ! 


41 


What an ass the fellow is ! ” 

Meantime, Sir George and Frank had not succeeded in their mediation so well as the 
squire. 

In truth, all unwitting, even to himself, Spooner had found cooking thirsty work, 
and he had just drunk himself into that first phase of tipsiuess which may be called the 
cross phase. 

Elated with his triumphant dehut as a cook, the nerve Opiniatum rose, defiant cf all 
contradiction. In vain they soothed and argued. Finally, hearing the squire return- 
ing with his penitent, Frank besought the excited Spooner to come out with him and 
have a quiet walk and pipe, until his mood should have softened down into that tem- 
perate zone which made Mr. Spooner the amiable, but uninteresting person we have 
endeavored to describe. 

“ No, no, Frank! I am afraid of no man. What I say, I say and stick to. Don’t 
think to get me out of his way ! ” 

“ That is right, Augustus 1 ” said Captain Crabshawe. “Old friends don’t want to 
be parted, do they? I am sorry for what I said; so come along, and let us have our 
rubber.” 

“Captain Crabshawe, you are a gentleman — I accept your apology; though, as 
Frank knows ” 

“ Frank knows nothing, but that you and I are to cook the dinner to-moiTow — and 
there is nothing to cook.” 

“Well! Frank, my boy, leave it to me. Didn’t I cook you a good dinner to-day, 
Squire ? Didn’t I, now? ” 

“Then take the cookery-book, and look over a few things, while I play the first 
rubber : you shall cut in after.” 

“ Very good, trust all to me, you may trust everything to me.” 

And so, not only his nerve slept, but his whole body. He slept until bedtime, he 
slept as they walked him oif to his couch, and he slept the whole night through ; but he 
awoke in the morning unutterably miserable. 

As for helping to cook the dinner, much less fulfilling his promise the night before, 
the sight of a cup of tea made him shiver, a slice of dry toast turned him as pale as 
ashes. He could do nothing but sit on the beach, holding his hot head in his hotter 
hands. 

The squire ofiered his services as kitchen-maid, but Frank seemed to have no mis- 
givings. 

“ That’s the best-hearted young fellow I know!” said the squire fervently, as he. 
Sir George, and King Crab proceeded to go shooting. 

“Ah!” murmured IGng Crab, “he is weak, very weak, with regard to the other 
sex ! ” 

“ I honor him for it. I like to see a young man fond of the girls. You may then be 
sure there is no vice in him ? ” 

“’Tis dangerous work, squire! The girls nowadays are so forward! I know 
some who would no more mind bringing one up for a breach of promise of marriage, 
than I care for knocking ofi* the head of that rabbit.” 

“ Then, pay the damages, George, and think you have had your fun for your money. 
Though, as far as I know of your" fast girls, many of them make far better wives than 
your demure ones. I like a fine-spirited girl — provided she is a lady.” 

“Oh, bother! they are all ladies now. Look at those Miss Perjinks — there’s fiounces 
and feathers for you ! ” 

“ I meant ladies in manners. Crab ! As for your fiounces and feathers, to my mind, 
they are just marks of the other sort. But some one shouts ! ” 

They retraced their steps, and met Frank hatless and breathless ; just behind him, 
the melancholy Spooner, endeavoring to look excited, but having much the appearance 
of a fiy newly rescued from drowning out of a jug of thick cream. He was rejoiced at 
his delivery, but still nauseated and helpless. 

“ A boat ! ” exclaimed Frank. “ She comes from Lufi*. I can trace her track all the 
way from there, straight here ! ” 

“ Where ! where is she? ” exclaimed the squire, knocking every one aside. 

“Who is in the boat?” demanded Sir George, and getting no answer. 

They all ran hastily down to the landing-place ; the boat was still a quarter of a mile 
from shore, and as there was a current running past there, it seemed to our excited 
Puflites to make no way. 

“ Only one person in it ! — an old fisherman I — a very old fisherman I — frightfully 
old ! ” Thus did they describe him. 

“ Well,” said the squire, heaving a sigh, that was almost as powerful as a young 
breeze, “ if Elizabeth was in any sort of hurry, she would not have sent such a rotten 
old chap as that ! ” 

“ Or such a rotten old boat 1 ” 

“ If Arabella is ill I 

6 


42 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“ Be easy,” said Frank, seeing Mr. Spooner unable to complete liis sentence, through 
emotion, or the pang of some inward anguish ; “ if there was anything really the matter 
they would have hoisted the flag, as they know we have a boat.” 

“ Probably th^'v are tired of Luff*, have given up the challenge, and gone home ! ” 

“ Just like women ! ” said King Crabshawe ; “ they can’t live two days together with- 
out quarreling, and so have broken up their party.” 

“ I’ll answer for it, no one has quarrelled with Elizabeth; but I daresay they are a 
bit sick of the place, and want some extra license, or a little infringement of our bar- 
gain; Elizabeth is too sensible to take any liberty of that sort without leave. What a 
time the old hunks is ! ” 

“ I’ll take our boat, and go and tow him in.” 

“ No, see ! he knows what he is about ! The current will sweep him right in — 
directly.” 

Which it did; and he was instantly boarded, to his no small alarm, by the squire and 
Frank. In fact, he had cause for fear ; his boat was really so rotten, the squire was 
nearly going bodily through it I 

Drawing him high aud dry, they all proceeded to question him vigorously. In the 
excitement — which is admirable physic, administered at the proper moment — Mr. 
Augustus Spooner was beginning to rally from the depressing elfects of his headache, 
and he asked after his Arabella with quite as much eagerness as any of the others. 

They had pronounced the old man as rotten in personal appearance, his boat as 
rotten, and they now saw that he was still more rotten in intellects. At the same time, 
he was undergoing a trying ordeal even for a man whose brains were in perfect health. 

So the squire, fluding nothing could be got out of him, but a bewildered stare from 
one to the other, ordered them all to be silent, while he propounded one or two ques- 
tions of the simplest nature — such questions as the most decayed brain might answer. 
“ Did you come from Luff’? ” 

“ Ah ! I be just come from Luff*.” 

Did the ladies send you? ” 

“ Anan.” 

“ Did the people at Luff send you ? ” 

“ The wimmeu folk? Ay, her did send I ! ” 

“ Which ? which ? Eliz ? Mrs. Joscelyn ? — Mrs. Spooner? — eh ? eh? ” 

No answer; it was clear the old man would only answer one at a time. 

“ What sort of woman sent you here? ” 

“ Her be a pratty spooken wooman.” 

“ Elizabeth ! — Arabella ! — that pretty Kate I ” 

“ Her be the cook, her did tell I.” 

“Susan! oh! oh! oh!” 

“ What did she send you here for? ” 

“ Wi’ herrings ! ” 

“ And you brought no message ? ” 

“ Anan.” 

“ None of the others gave you a message for us? ” 

“Na.” 


“ Did you see them? ” 

“ Ay, twa leddies, twa gurls, a bit lassie, and cook! ” 

“ W ere they happy ? Did they seem cheerM ? ” 

“ Ay ! ah ! skeery as larks ! ” 

“ Have you no letter? ” 

“ Anan.” 

“ Did they write? ” 

“ Ou ay ! a bit paper ! ” 

“ Where — where is it ? — who is it for ? — what is it about ? — never was such a slow 
old man ! ” 


At last the precious document appeared. It was addressed to no one. The squire 
opened it, by force of will and character. 

sufflSeut^”^^^^ what he asks for his herrings ; a penny a piece is quite 


That was the document — nothing more ! 

Certaiifly the ladies had thought of them, for they had sent the old man to them: 
but only to think of their pockets — only to warn them of a treachery in the matter of 
herrings — merely to save them a few pence ! 

The sqmre showed his lordly disgust by chucking the old man half-a-crown, and 
wmking off without the slightest regard as to whether he got any herrings at all. 

bir George soon foUowed, after extracting every morsel of intellect left in the old 
man s Drains. 

Cai^ain Crabshawe bargained stoutly, and was the only one who looked upon the 
unfortunate document with a friendly eye. 


PUFF ! PUFF ! 43 

The sight of the herrings, or the disappointment, brought back all Spooner’s bad 
symptoms. He retired from the scene of action worse than ever. 

King Crab, having made a capital bargain, which caused hoary tears of avarice to 
steal down the old man’s cheeks, went after the shooters, leaving Frank in sole pos- 
session of herrings, the rotten old man, and his rotten old boat. 

“Now,” said that wide awake young gentleman, “here is another half-crown for 
you ; but sit down, and do to those herrings what is necessary before you fry them for 
supper.” 

It was wonderful how the sight of money sharpened up the old gentleman’s brains. 
He out with the necessary implement from some extraordinary hole in his boat, and set 
to work at once. Meantime, Frank went to the house, and brought him back an ex- 
cellent refection in the shape of a bone of ham, a lump of bread, and a bottle of beer.” 

“ Now,” said he, “ all this is yours if you give me an exact description of all you saw 
at Luff.” 

Frank did not think the news he extracted too dearly bought, little as it was. At 
least they were all well and blooming — at least they were happy and contented. 

“ The girls wor a sing-ging like May-birds, and they was a chasing and a running for 
vera fun-like, and they was a smiling and a larfing just like pussic-cats.” 

At last this old man, with his rotten old boat, bid farewell, and Frank began to re- 
member his duties. 

He ran back to the house, and found Sam snoring before the kitchen fire ; while 
Scruttles was most certainly in the very act of picking the lock of the door of their 
small cellar. 

In vain he declared, — 

“ He wor merely iling it, as t’ squire had sich a mortal trubble a opening of she.” 

Not a thing done ; no beds made, the breakfast all lying about — and the whole place 
precisely as they left it ! 

On remonstrating with Sam, he turned sulky ; upon which, the flow of amiability 
running with so swift a current tlu'ough the frame of Mr. Summers suddenly stopped. 

When a good-natured person gets into a rage, it is, as all the world knows, a very 
serious matter. Sam was perfectly astounded. No roaring of the squire’s, no bad 
language of the captain’s, no irritation on the part of his master, ever produced such 
an effect on his activity. That so mild, so pleasant spoken, so sweet-tempered a gen- 
tleman should “ cuss ” But it is not fair to Frank to enter into a minute descrip- 

tion of his language and deportment on this memorable occasion. 

But, whatever he might have been led to say in this unfortunate moment, Sam felt 
he. spoke the truth when he declared Sir George would discharge him if he (Mr. 
Summers) chose to demand it of him, and he worked like a horse on the very sugges- 
tion; while Scruttles made hideous and frantic efforts to obliterate from the mind of 
Summers any unpleasant idea of his honesty. 

“ When a quiet cove gits ’is blude hup, Sam, hit be a caution. Leastways, they alters 
keps their wurd. Now, here’s t’ squire ; why, lor-a-mercy, he maoy a-swear ’isself 
blind, and there’s an hend hout. But blest if hi don’t think as yon Summerty ool do 
hall he sais, and ha deel more ! ” 

The consequence of these feelings on the part of the two servants was that they ex- 
erted themselves to the utmost, and soon regained their lost ground. 

Pleased at their efforts, at the probable prospect of being able to provide a decent 
dinner, though there was but little in the larder, Mr. Frank relaxed a little in his stern 
demeanor. He even went so far as to take Sam into his confidence, who also let him 
into his, which was, that his general stupidity, his carelesssness, idleness, and entire 
absence of any good quality, were all assumed,. He had no idea of his master's 
shutting himself up in an “ hisland‘” with nothing to eat or drink, or any fit company 
to speak to. 

“ Not a pettercoat hany way near the place, Mr. Summers — sir.” 

“ Very true, Sam ; but here we are going to stay for a whole month, and if you don’t 
choose to exert yourself, and do your duty, why, your master will discharge you. He 
is not likely to lose his bet because his servant is impudent enough to dare to have an 
opinion of his own.” 

“ Very true, Mr. Summers, sir. I axes yer pardon, sir ; of coorse, Sir George, ’aving 
a bet, must win ’is bet, Mr. Summers, sir ; and I’ll back him through thick and thin. 
But it’s that there conwict as disgruntles me, Mr. Summers, sir. He don’t agree with 
me, sir — my constitootion his poot hout by him, Mr. Summers, sir.” 

“ You wont have to bear with him long, Sam, I am certain. He will show his true 
colors soon.” 

“ Very true, sir. Depend upon it, Mr. Summers, sir, has hi will do my best to give 
satisfaction, sir.” 

“ That’s all I want, Sam.” 

So this evening, after (as we have seen) very stormy weather among them, we leave 


44 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


our dear Puffltes in that happy glow of heart, occasioned by the magic words — “ For- 
give and forget.” , ^ ^ -4-1 

They were more in love with their life of freedom than ever — more pleased with 
themselves and each other. Also the dinner made of nothing was capital. Lots of 
herrings, with plates of fried onions, that Scruttles was an adept at serving hot. Lecf 
cutlets°taken from the under side of the sirloin; Irish stew made out of the scrag end 
of the neck of mutton, and an omelette handsomely made aud tossed up by Sam, as a 
pleasing surprise to Mr. Summers. 

Kevcr were they so jovial — never had they cracked so many jokes, poking fun at 
each other without fear of a quarrel. But the crowning speech of the evening came 


from King Crab, — 

“ Well, I am glad we have heard that the ladies are well 


and happy, poor things 




CHAPTER VI. 

“luff it is.” 

{Extract from the Luff Journal,) 


“ I HAD no idea that we were going to be so happy on this island. It has been always 
my opinion that for true enjoyment there ought to be a proper mixture of both sexes 
in society. The conventionalisms of each are so apt to increase without this mingling 
together, that I have held the company of petticoats only as insipid. There are certain 
feminalities among us that, indulged in, amount, in the mischief they do, to the magni- 
tude of crimes. 

“ I am sorry to allow this of my own sex, but I have no doubt that a frank member 
of the other will be as ready to confess he sees as much evil in men’s society where 
there are no females, as I see in ours without men. 

“ Having come to Luff with this opinion firmly settled in my mind, — havkif volunta- 
rily given myself up for a whole month only to the society of my own sex, — I feel much 
pride in recording that I never was happier or more contented. It is perhaps rather 
too soon to give a decided opinion, as we have been here but five days ; nevertheless, 
being upon promise to write my experiences as they occur, I can only say that each day 
has been merrier than the last. 

“ We have all shaken into our places. My companions win my love and gratitude by 
their studious compliance with my wishes ; we have so much to do we are never idle, 
and some of our duties are so novel, they please us by the very contrast they present 
to us. 

“ In addition to all this, there is something both healthy and exhilarating in our 
present life. Every breath we draw is accompanied by that subtile essence of the hap- 
piness of living and existing which gives so much buoyancy to the frame, and which 
none but the perfectly healthy ever feel. 

“ We rival with each other as to who is to be in the sea first ; we breakfast at eight ; 
byten o’clock our palace is all in perfect order, dinner settled, and no care on our minds 
but that of imbibing and imparting fresh knowledge to each other. We discover so 
much that is curious and hitherto unknown, that our studies are as entertaining as a 
romance. 

“ At one we dine ; at three, our house again in order, we go out, aud pursue oui 
studies by the sea-shore. Here we make discoveries in the earth, the sea, the air, that 
leads even my volatile Bessie to reflect. And she learns with pleasure what she for- 
merly regarded as an irksome task. 

“ This evening there steamed into Exe Bay a huge double-funnelled steamer, which 
made such a commotion before she settled herself in her anchorage, that the little 
waves hurried one after another in heedless haste, and threw themselves, as it were, for 
protection from some sea monster, on to our little island. For my part, I do not thiniv 
she mars the scene. She is the living link between us and the world. She has placed 
herself there, midway between us and the other island of Kibble. Her grand presence 
imposes a sort of calm aud confidence; marvellous as is her structure, her size, her 
power, yet a silken thread seemed to guide her in and out among the islands. 

“ To be sure, her smoke was ugly and black, but that has now floated far away, and 
hangs a long black line upon the most distant horizon, and a little feathery cloud, as 
light as those angel garments, alone floats up into the deep blue sky of night. Her light 
is like a friendly beacon, and her tall and faultless spars, seen through the moonbeams, 
seem like warriors guarding us in our sleep. 


45 


“ LUFF IT IS.” 


“ But I have not finished our day. 

“ We wander home again at six, to prepare for tea. At this time, those who have 
discovered treasures arrange them and put them away. 

“ Clara adds some new treasure to her tank of molluscs, and Kate sorts her shells, 
and Bessie presses her sea-weed, leaving to me and Arabella the preparations for tea. 
This meal is the only one which is entrusted to our charge. The girls and Susan do all 
the necessary work of the other two. 

“ So we endeavor to show our appreciation of the trust by various little surprises, and 
a great attempt at decoration. Sometimes each has her pat of butter placed on a green 
leaf, of great freshness and beauty; again, by each plate there may be a little nosegay, 
wherein the sand-rose, carefully denuded of its clusters of thorns, adds a wonderful 
grace and beauty to the somewhat meagre collection of sea-flowers. 

“ Sometimes we break out in a fine display of cakes, and as for our skill in shaping 
butter, it almost equals the art of Chantrey. Birds’-nests with little yellow eggs, bas- 
kets with tiny pretended apples and pears, twisted serpents, and true-lovers’ knots, in 
every variety. It is really quite an anticipated pleasure among the young ones, con- 
jecturing under what form this desirable condiment will be ofiered to them. To be 
sure, such pleasures are very simple, but we have Nature as our great mother-teacher, 
so we laugh and are happy. 

“ After tea, we stroll out again, and in the quiet silent twilight we discourse largely 
of matters we do not even think of in the broad daylight. 

“ We become confidential, and, drawing back from the pellucid gleam of a moonbeam, 
we tell of feelings that hitherto have only been known to God and ourselves. And 
when our hearts become full, and words are wanting to express the thoughts burning 
within us, we muse, and silently speak to God and the night. 

“ Suddenly a joyful bark prepares us for the coming of Buna, sent by Susan to tell 
us it is nine o’clock. Mignon springs out of her mistress’s lap and shrieks a little wel- 
come. The two, matching in kind but belying it in appearance, proceed to have a game 
of play, which lasts all the way home. 

“ Now wo have music. Bessie coaxes some one to play chess with her. I am writing. 
The gentle but solemn feelings of the twilight have not lost their power. We welcome 
the hour of prayer as the proper finish to a day of calm happiness, and we lose the fear of 
being lonely and somewhat helpless in the perception of God’s presence. Night is but the 
unfolding of His wings, beneath which we sleep as children guarded by their mothers. 

(Signed) “Elizabeth Joscelyx.” 

“I cordially subscribe to every remark made by Mrs. Joscelyn in this journal. I 
never was so happy or contented. Indeed, I never felt so well — and I begin to think 
that perhaps one may coddle too much. Nevertheless, I hope Augustus has been care- 
ful not to wet his feet, and that he remembered to put on his flannel waistcoats. Poor 
Agustus ! I wonder how he gets on ! Badly, I should say. Under no circumstances 
can I imagine Captain Crabshawe’s company making up for mine. No, indeed ! I am 
not naturally vain, but when Augustus says from his heart he prefers that man to me, 
then — we shall see. I make no complaint, and don’t intend to do so ; but a worse 
temper, or an uglier man, I never saw. 

“Mrs. Joscelyn says I must not be personal, and the above sentence must be scratched 
out as too much so. But we promised to write the truth, and I write the truth. If 
anybody is ofi’ended, all I can say is, so much the better for me and Augustus. 

“ Mrs. Joscelyn has omitted to describe a most fearful alarm that we had yesterday. 

“ I was looking out of my bedroom window, when I saw a boat approaching with a 
man in it. I screamed with surprise and rushed downstairs. ‘Hide! hide"!’ lex- 
claimed, ‘ a boat — a boat is coming — a man in it — perhaps two or three more Ijnug at 
the bottom. We are lost ! — lost ! ’ 

“ I nearly fainted, screaming ‘ Augustus ! Augustus ! ’ Yes, in that hour I felt, Au- 
gustus, what it was to have a manly protector — and you were absent ! Mrs. Joscelyn 
and Susan went to face the enemy, apparently without fear. Clara followed with Buna. 
In a few moments Susan returned for a dish — laughing ! 

“ The boat contained only one man, desirous of selling us some herrings. 

“ I went down to see him — he certainly was an old man — a very old man; there 
was nothing to fear from him. As Clara said, he was the most uninteresting old thing 
ever seen, wholly given up to avarice. I shall never forget his disappointment at not 
being able to deceive Susan. 

“ ‘"There, mum! ’ said she to me, ‘he had the imperance to ’ax me five shillin’ for 
that lot. “ No,” says I, “ may I niver see a ’erring again if I gives yer more nor two.” 
And two he tuk. Missus is avising him to go to Puff; being as master is clean mad on 
’erings, and will thinli nofiin of eating a dizin. And he be agoing. But I’ve got Miss 
Bessie to writ a word to her pa of his hextortionary, I have.’ 

“ The first morning after we arrived I felt very far from well, and was inclined to lie 


46 


lords and ladies. 


in bed, but that I fancied Mrs. Joscelyii would be nervous ; no doctor to be had — no 
"ood advice. So I exerted myself, and was nearly dressed when Susan came in. 

^ “ Well, mum, so you be up at last — you do luke good-for-nothing like; and there s 
mistress have been in the sea, and she have dressed the breekwist, and she and IMiss 
Bessie have made their beds and redded their room, and they be luiking just for all the 
world as fresh as currant-jelly, mum ! ‘ 

“ I own the idea of making my own bed was not pleasant to me ; but as we need not 
tell any one of it, perhaps it does not matter. 

“ And as it is scarcely possible to have more to relate in the monotonous lives that 
we lead, but that we are wondrously happy, remarkably so, I shall conclude my little 
addition to the journal by merely stating that I had another serious alarm this evening. 
A great huge smoking, paddling, boiling steamer came into the bay this evening, rush- 
iug about with such speed, strength, and recklessness, I could not help fancying she 
would bump against our island and knock it over. However, there she is now, lying as 
still and calm as if asleep. Over the water comes the sound of voices, and her watch- 
light is reflected on the ocean, far away. She really looks like a friend watching us. ’ 


CHAPTER VII. 

Clara’s history — written down from memory by mrs. spooner. 

“ Clara’s parents were well-born, and her father was wealthy. Her mother had very 
few near relations, and only brought her husband a fortune of one thousand pounds. 
But that was not considered an impediment to the marriage, as Mr. Severn had enough 
for the style in which they desired to live. 

“ Fifty years ago money went further than it goes now, and people with a thousand 
or fifteen hundred a year were enabled to live as well as people do now with twice that 
income. 

“ Mr. Severn had three brothers younger than himself; if he had no son his estate 
was to go to his next brother, and then the entail ceased. He could leave it to whom 
he pleased — male or female. 

“ Clara was a first child, and when she was three years old, and no companion came, 
no heir, Mr. Severn bethought him that he must make some provision for her, besides 
the thousand pounds that was her mother’s. 

“ He had made all the necessary preliminaries for insuring his life, for he had no 
power to assign her an annuity from the estate, when the promise of an heir made 
him pause. 

“ Three times in the course of the next five years did his wife bear him a dead child, 
which was so great a vexation to him, that, catching a low fever, he was in no condi- 
tion of mind or body to fight against it. 

“Had he been in good heart, cheery and hopeful, there was no doubt but that he 
might have recovered. But he was no sooner taken ill, than he gave himself up to 
die. 

“ His wufe followed him within a month. Her health had long been broken ; some 
insidious disease sapping away not only the foundations of her own life, but destroy- 
ing the germ of life in the unborn before they had even seen the light. 

“ Mr. Ambrose Severn, the second brother and heir, was an eccentric, strange indi- 
vidual — considered to be almost insane by the rest of the family. 

“ He was a bachelor, and lived alone and secluded in a little cottage on the coast : 
where his sole amusement seemed to be to examine the contents of all that the fishing 
cobles brought home. 

“ He wore a long beard, which was a rare thing in those days, and he was very un- 
tidy in his habits and person. 

“Altogether his family cared not to speak of him as belonging to them, for they 
were truly ashamed of him and his odd ways. 

“ Nevertheless, the fisherman and the poor about always gave him a good word for 
kindness of heart, though they acknowledged, — 

“ ‘ He worn’t respectable loike.’ ' 

“Now, he was heir of the Oldburn estate, and the guardian of a little spoilt girl 
eight years old. She was a high-spirited, healthy, romping girl, and had only one wish 
ungratified, namely, that she was not a boy. 

“ When Mr. Ambrose Severn arrived, he found her screaming with part passion and 
part anguish. Her mother was too ill to see or soothe her, and her uncles Charles and 
Edwin were counselling that she should be well whipped. They were both married men, 
with children of their own, and both in needy circumstances. They were very humble 


CLAUA’S HISTORY. 


47 


and fawning to the brother they had hitherto despised, and they showed him various 
letters of their elder brother’s, wherein he had sent them timely presents of money, 
and had always been most liberal and kind to them. 

“ If this was meant as a hint to Mr. Ambrose, he did not take it. Even after four 
days, when the funeral was over, and there was no excuse for them to remain longer, 
he does not appear to have said a single kind word to anybody — not even the widow; 
for though he told her she need not leave Oldburn, he added, — 

“ ‘ You won’t trouble me long, you will soon be by Giles.’ 

“ Which words proving true, once more the three brothers met to lay the wife by the 
husband. On this occasion Mr. Ambrose said, — 

“ ‘ Which of you -will take charge of that girl? ’ 

“ They both remained silent. 

“ ‘ She has from her mother one thousand pounds ; this will produce, at four per cent, 
(if we can get it), about forty pounds a year. I will make the allowance up to one 
hundred a year if you will carry her off at once.’ 

They both exclaimed, eagerly, that they would take her there and then. 

“ ‘ Y^ou can’t both have her — but take her year and year about.’ 

“ And so thus it happened that this unfortunate Clara, high-spirited and intelligent 
beyond her years, and yet a spoilt darling, was suddenly given up into the hands of 
those who cared no more for her than that she brought them one hundred a year. 

“ Poor little desolate child ! — sick at heart, pining for one kind word, just torn from 
everything she most loved, from all she had ever known, and taken from a beautiful 
and happy home to a wretched little mean villa in the environs of London, what fate 
could have been more folorn? 

“ They arrived late at night, and of course, though Mrs. Charles Severn expected her 
husband, time had not been given to tell of the child. 

“ She was one of those poor, weak, muddling women that have no idea of how to 
act under a surprise. 

“ ‘ Dear me, Charles ! ’ she said, ‘ what is that? ’ 

“ ‘ Our little niece Clara.’ 

“ ‘ And what is she here for? ’ 

* “ ‘ She is going to live with us.’ 

‘“Dear me!’ 

“ ‘ Well, are you not going to give the child some tea, and order her a bed? * 

“ ‘ Your tea is ready, Charles ! ’ 

“ ‘ The same will do for us both, I suppose : ring the bell for it. And now, where Is 
she to sleep ? ’ 

“ ‘ I don’t know, I’m sure ! Can she sleep with ours ? * 

“ ‘ They are three in a bed now, ain’t they ? ’ 

“ ‘ Y^'es, but there is Bob I ’ 

“ ‘ Bob has only a sofa.’ 

“ ‘ There’s the loft ! ’ 

“ ‘ But no bed in it.’ 

“ ‘ And the parlor ! ” 

“ ‘ Pooh, pooh ! do exert yourself, and go up stairs and consult nurse.’ 

“Before Clara had swmllowed a cup of tea, the only thing she could take, a great 
bold-looking woman burst into the room and said, — 

“‘I didn’t hire myself to wait on hanybody’s child, sir; I expect my wages riz if I 
am to be bothered with more nor I hengaged for ! ’ 

“‘We will talk of that to-morrow, nurse. Meantime, prepare a bed; the child is 
tired.’ 

“ ‘ Missus says she is to sleep with me, sir? ’ 

“ ‘ I will not ! ’ interrupted Clara. 

“ And I will not neither, miss — you may take my word for it.” 

“ It was more than an hour before anything was settled between the nurse and her 
mistress, during which time Clara roamed through the dirty housed and sat down to 
cry with horror at the prospect before her. 

“ In a common turn-down bedstead lay three ugly children sound asleep ; the room 
itself was so small, it was nearly filled by the bed. In an adjoining room was a similar 
bedstead, on which the nurse slept. Clara peeped into a sort of odd closet on the 
stairs, and saw a great huge boy, with staring eyes and frightful shocks of red hair, 
lying on a sofa, from which the clothes seemed ever to be falling off. 

“ The fate of the poor little girl that night was to fold herself up in a warm shawl, 
and doze before the nursery fire. 

“ But the miseries of that time were nothing to what followed. 

“ Accustomed to be nicely washed and dressed every day, the poor child felt all the 
horrors of utter neglect. In addition to which, all her clothes were taken from her, 
and those that her young cousins could wear were given to them. Day after day she 
had to put on the same things, until she loathed to dress herself in them. 


48 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“ It was not as if in this matter she was neglected and her cousins cared for. Mrs. 
Charles was wholly without any idea of order and tidiness ; in fact, she merely sat 
crouching over the fire, wondering at everything. 

“ Economy of a sordid and unhealthy kind pervaded the parlor, while the servants 
indulged in wasteful extravagance in each of their departments. 

“ The year that Clara spent with this wretched family was so miserable, that she 
looked forward to the period of going into the country to her uncle Edwin’s as an 
escape from torture. 

“ Though she was happier by comparison with the Edwin family than with the 
Charles’s it was only by comparison. INIr. Edwin had married very much beneath him, 
and though his wife was an excellent farmer’s wife, she was a rough uncouth woman at 
the best. And unfortunately her children partook of her nature more than their 
father’s. The little delicate, gently-nurtured girl, refined and sensitive beyond her 
years, had to endure much misery at the hands of her vulgar aunt and her rude boister- 
ous children. She was an object of keen envy and dislike on the part of them all, their 
mother included. For her Uncle Edwin, struck with the contrast between his own 
children and the little lady-like Clara, was always drawing comparisons. This not 
only made him harsh and displeased with his own children, but angry and sharp with 
his' wife. Though the fault was his own, that he had married beneath him, he visited 
the effects of it on his wife and children ; while they in their turn resented all his ill- 
humor upon the unhappy little Clara. 

“ With no companion but an old sheep-dog, the poor little thing would beg a bottle 
of milk and a bit of bread from the dairy-girl, and wander away into the woods and by 
the river the livelong day, creeping in at night and running up to her little bed to hide 
herself there. 

“ It was during this period that she made herself so well acquainted with all those 
secrets of natural history with which she delights us now. 

“ After being bandied from one to the other in this fashion, until she could endure it 
no longer, she took the resolution to write to her uncle Ambrose, and without com- 
plaining of her miserable life, simply asked to be sent to a school, as she had never 
been taught a single thing of any kind at either Hume Villa or Newlands Farm. 

“ She liad no answer to her letter, but at the end of a fortnight a cab stopping at the 
door, an elderly mild-looking woman in spectacles stepped out of it, and inquiring for 
Mr. Charles Potts, showed him a letter from his brother Ambrose, wherein he desired 
their niece Clara to be given up to the care of Miss Wailes, governess of a small girls- 
school at Putney. 

“There was, of course, a great row made, and it was doubtless soon known to both 
her uncles that Clara had written to her uncle Ambrose, for she received very harsh 
letters from them both. 

“ The school to which she went was by no means fitted for a girl of her birth and 
talents; but Miss Wailes was a good motherly woman, and Clara, with that courage 
and resolution which belong to all fine natures, educated herself, in spite of every im- 
pediment, by sheer force of will. 

“ Her Christmas holidays she spent with Miss Wailes, who received so much a week 
extra for her board and lodging. Her summer holidays she passed alternately at either 
Hume Villa or Newlands Farm, where her uncles were paid in the same 'manner as 
Miss Wailes. But in no one instance did it ever appear that her Uncle Ambrose ever 
spent one shilling beyond the hundred pounds appointed for her use. 

“ Thus the poor child went sadly bare of even clothes, not to speak of the little sim- 
ple luxuries of a child’s fancy. When Clara was about fifteen years old, she learned 
accidentally that her Uncle Ambrose had a very great dislike to her. She knew he had 
taken to very miserly habits, and the eccentricities of former years had almost become 
sins. But why he should dislike a girl he had never seen since she was eight years 
old, was inconceivable. She pondered over the thought for some time, and caine to 
the conclusion that his mind was being prejudiced against her by her other uncles. 

“ They had no doubt speculated as to who should be his heir — for if he went on 
leading the life he now did, it would not last very long. 

“ Under these circumstances, she wrote a little simple girl’s letter, saying that she 
had heard he did not like her, for which she could not but be very sorry, and she wished 
he would give her some opportunity to remove the impression. She received no 
answer to this ; but one day being at Hume Villa, she heard her cousin Anne laughing 
immoderately at an oldish man, who, struggling to get in at the gate, had caught his 
coat in the latch and torn it from top to bottom. His dismay and anguish were so 
visibly expressed on his countenance, that this ill-mannered girl could not help lau«-h- 
ing. ^ ^ ® 

“ Clara ran out, and taking him by the hand, led him into the parlor, and offered to 
mend his coat as well as she could. 

“ He was a miserable-looking old object, though scarcely so old as weak and sickly. 
She folded a cloak round him, and sat down to stitch up the rotten old coat — oifiy 


Clara’s history. 49 

Interrupted now and then by Anne and Sarah, her cousins, who tame in by turns to 
laugh at her. Also she was coufused by the watchful eyes of the old man. 

“ Suddenly she threw down her work; she ran to him and said, — 

“ ‘ Uncle — Uncle Ambrose, did you get my letter? ’ 

“ ‘ So you know me, child? ’ 

“ ‘ Yes ; but you have now no beard — you looked like papa — my dear, dear papal ’ 

‘“Well, since you know me, don’t tell the others. I’ll e’en go home again, now I 
have seen you.’ 

“‘And did you come only for that? Oh I uncle, let me go home with you, and 
nurse you — you look so ill, aud have such a cough.’ 

“ ‘ But you aro a fine lady.’ 

“ ‘ Am I ? But I will love you, if you will let me.’ 

“ ‘ You have a bad temper.’ 

“ ‘ I believe it is not good, but I should never be disrespectful to you.* 

“ ‘ You are very extravagant.’ 

“ ‘ How can I be that, uncle ? Once I had a whole shilling.’ 

“ ‘ How did you spend it? ’ 

“ ‘ I bought Miss Wailes a little ink-bottle, with fourpence, and if you please, uncle, 
the rcmaiuing eightpence went partly in a pair of gloves, in which to go to church, 
and — *and a little bit of pink ribbon to tie round my throat. I never had any ribbon 
before.’ 

“ ‘ And how many silk frocks have you? ’ 

“‘Oh! uncle, a silk frock! — that is amusing; I have only two frocks in all the 
world — one is a linsey, for which aunt gave eightpence a yard two years ago, and it is 
so small — oh ! so small, I am ashamed to wear it — and the other is this.’ 

“ Aud she spread out to his gaze a threadbare, faded, old stuff gown, that no servant 
would have worn. 

“ ‘ Then you are sly, and tell falsehoods.’ 

“ To this Clara made no reply. She took up the coat, and though her face burned 
with blushes of indignation, she said nothing. 

“ At length the coat was finished, and she held it up for him to see. He silently put 
it on, coughing painfully all the, time. 

“ ‘ Uncle Ambrose,’ she said, gently, ‘let me bring you a cup of tea. My uncle and 
aunt are not at home, but Anne has the keys.’ 

‘ “ I know they are out — I want no tea. Here, take this.’ 

“ It was a bank-note. 

“ ‘ I should like it so much ! ” she exclaimed joyfully, ‘ but oh 1 uncle, say that you 
do not think me sly and false ? ’ And the tears filled her eyes. 

“No, my dear — but I wish your father had lived.’ 

“ ‘ Will you be my father? I will love you so ! ” 

“ ‘ I must go away now, but I will think of it — meantime, buy yourself a silk frock.’ 

“ ‘ A silk frock ! Oh ! how happy I am ! I shall now be like a lady ! ’ 

“ Which I wish you to be, my dear. A sad change has come over me lately — I am 
not long for this world.’ 

“ ‘ But if you will let me be your nurse I will soon make you well.’ 

“‘God bless you! my dear. I have been a fool. Don’t tell any one I have been 
here.’ 

“ ‘ But that will be sly, mean, dear uncle — let me tell ! ’ 

“ ‘ They will put me in a mad-house, perhaps. Your uncles are violent ^ men. They 
are without scruples — they have lied about you.’ 

“ ‘ Take me home with you now. I will be ready in a minute. I will take such care 
of you ! No one shall put you in a mad-house if I am by.’ 

“ Come, my dear, come — that will be the very thing.” 

“ ‘ I will send for a cab? ” 

“ ‘ Yes, my dear, yes — with a good horse. Let us get away quickly ! ” 

“ Clara ran to obey him, sending the servant for a cab. Then folding up in a paper 
parcel the little that she wanted, she returned to her uncle again, with whom she found 
her two cousins ; they were angrily remonstrating upon his staying so long in their 
parlor. 

“‘lam going to take him away now, Anne, so leave the room.’ 

“ ‘ Leave the room, indeed. Miss Impudence ! Is that the way you speak to me, whose 
papa keeps you out of charity ! * 

“ ‘ Don’t listen to what she says,’ pleaded Clara to her uncle, with a look on her face 
as much as to say — ‘ she does not know it is Uncle Ambrose she is speaking to. You 
see,’ she added with a smile, ‘ we are, some of us, not very good tempered.’ 

“He smiled too, and looked at her wondrously pleasant, so that Clara hoped he did 
not hear the two naughty girls. 

“ The cab now coming to the door, she hastened to get him away, her iU-mannered 
cousins following them to the very door. 

7 


50 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“ Tust as tliev entered it, Annie espied the little bundle, and cried out, , , 

‘“Oh! thieff thief! what are you taking away?” and pulled at her to snatch it 

'‘‘Then tlie old gentleman sternly rebuked them, and said, 

“Tell vour father, when he comes home, that his brother Ambrose has been here, 
and has taken away to live with him the girl he has ill-treated and maligned ! ” 

“ The cab driving away, the last Clara saw of her cousins was both of them standing 

like statues of horror, looking after the cab. ,,, 

“ ‘ Now mv dear, go to the Cxreat Western Station, and take our tickets quickly for 
home; I must get there to-night -I must get to the protection of my servants and 
friends, and my good dog, otherwise my brothers will catch me and put me into a mad- 
“ And he trembled, as a man might do shuddering with fear. , , , 

“ Oh » how delighted Clara felt that at last she should see her once-loved home, the 
remembrance of which had never left her. All her past sorrows fled before the delight 

of the anticipation. . i u i i 

“ Worn out with excitement and fatigue — for it seemed her poor uncle had walked 
almost all the way to town — he slept the greater part of the journey. At the end of 
two hours and a half, Clara supposed they would be nearing the station that they were 
to stop at, for of course everything Avas greatly altered in the eight years of her ab- 
sence. But she did not awaken her uncle in time. 

“ This turned out very fortunate, for it seemed that her Uncle Charles, coming home 
immediately after they left, and hearing his daughters’ tale, conceived the idea of 
catching them before they should reach Oldburn. He telegraphed to the proper sta- 
tion to have them stopped, but as they did not get out there, of course there tvas no 
one to be stopped. When he arrived by the next train, accompanied by a doctor, a 
friend of his, and a keeper from Ilanwell, he learned this piece of news. ^ Nevertheless, 
he took a fly, and Avent on to Oldburn, Avhere he heard that the old squire (as he was 
called) had left home a fortnight before, and had not returned. 

“ Mr. Charles Avent back Avith his companions to tOAvn in a very bad way, for he con- 
cluded that his brother and niece had in reality never quitted London ; and where he 
was to find them in that monstrous place, Avas past his calculations. He Avrote to his 
brother EdAvin to join him, that together they might concert some scheme so as to sepa- 
rate the young girl from her uncle. 

“ ‘ For you may be certain that, if she lives with him, she Avill be sole heiress, and we 
shall have nothing.’ 

“ Mr. Edwin obeyed the summons, and together they had long consultations. 

“ Meantime, Clara and her uncle stopped at a station that Avas beyond theirs by about 
fifteen miles. And not thinking it well for her uncle to travel further that night, Clara 
persuaded him to stay at the little inn close to the raihvay, intending to return to their 
proper station the next morning. But, as fate Avould have it, they Avere met at the door 
by no less a person than Mr. Joseelyn, aaAio kneAV Mr. Ambrose perfectly Avell. 

“ Nothing Avould satisfy this kind hospitable man but that they shohld get into his 
carriage, then at the door, and go home Avith him. The next day he would drive them 
to Oldburn through the Avoods. 

“ ‘ You may do as you like, Ambrose,’ said he ; ‘but I am going to take my old friend 
Giles’s daughter to be introduced to my Avife.’ 

“ And so they accepted the kind, friendly invitation. 

“And noAV think of Clara’s happiness — think of the ecstasy of being welcomed by 
Mrs. Joseelyn, of the beautiful room, the order, the freshness, the luxury of everything 
around her. Hoav her heart leaped to meet it all, as her proper sphere ! How she re- 
membered everything — the little niceties, the pretty refinements, the delicate charms 
of a luxurious happy English home ! 

“‘But in the middle of it all,’ interrupted Mrs. Joseelyn, ‘when every pulse was 
beating with an almost painful excitement of happiness, she did not forget her sick 
uncle. She assumed her place at once as his guardian and nurse, and you Avould have 
supposed the dear child had lived Avith him all her life, so intuitively did she seem to 
anticipate his Avishes. “ He is like papa, you knoAV,” she said. “ Everything that papa 
liked I remember vmdly.” ’ 

“ The delight of the poor heart-sick Ambrose, you may conceive; for after all, my 
dears, that Avas the real cause of all his eccentricities — his heart Avas too sensith^e. 
He confided his story to Mr. Barton, the clergyman, before he died, who told it to us 
after he Avas dead. He was a shy, nervous boy, and as these four brothers lost their 
mother early, they Avere badly brought up, for their father only cared for the eldest son, 
Giles. So Ambrose grew more shy and reserved every year, just as every year he felt 
the more necessity to have something to love. He unfortunately fell into the hands of 
a handsome but rather forward farmer’s daughter, A\'ho, taking advantage of his weak 
though good heart, meant to end their flirtation by a proper marriage. . 

“As is gene •'ally the case with shy natures, Ambrose was very proud, and he resisted 


51 


claka’s history. 

her arts much longer than she expected. She resorted to a great many. They used to 
meet in a little wood, which, situated four miles from Oldburn, was only separated from 
her father’s farm by an orchard, a sloping meadow, and the river, which was crossed 
by stepping-stones. These were built up a good height, as the least rain flooded the 
river, which was rather narrow at this point. 

‘‘ Amelia, or Mella, as she was usually called, always crossed the stepping-stones to 
meet her gentleman lover, and she often told him if he would not marry her she would 
throw herself off them, and drown herself before his eyes. At this he would smile, say- 
ing, ‘ She should not drown while he was near to save her.’' 

One evening she almost tore from him a vow never to meet her again, she would 
not consent, and she became so violent, they parted on the worst of terms, and she ran 
across the stepping-stones, as if fleeing for her life from him. He saw her safely over 
them, and then went home. For three days he never visited their trysting-place. He 
was endeavoring to school himself into giving her up. Though he had no one else to 
turn to, he was conscious that she was not the sort of person he ought to have even for 
a friend, much less a wife. They had none of them been taught any religion, so it was 
only that inherent love of virtue or self-respect that urged him to go on no further with 
this girl, to his own hurt, and her ruin. 

“ He thought it but manly to go and tell her his decision himself. He waited long in 
the wood, but she did not come. So he decided to cross the stepping-stones, and go 
to seek at her father’s house. As he stepped between the two middle stones, something 
in the river attracted his attention. He looked down, and, surging up through the 
water, the drowned face of poor Mella met his own. She lay there jammed in between 
the two stones ; he gave a loud and horrified cry, which brought the farmer and his 
men to the spot instantly. Fortunately for Mr. Ambrose, Mella had been missed by 
her family since the evening before, and the people were all out looking for her. They 
had seen Mr. Ambr9se go into the wood with his book, and they had watched him 
cross the ford, and instantly conjectured the reason of his cry. Thus he was no more 
concerned to their minds in her dreadful death, but in having found the body. He did 
not think so himself. 

“ The jury summoned by the coroner decided that she had foolishly crossed the step- 
ping-stones late at night, and had accidentally slipped in. Perhaps she would not have 
been drowned, put for the circumstance of being jammed in between the two stones, 
whereby she was sufibcated before she could extricate herself. 

“ But Mr. Ambrose never entertained this idea for a moment in his heart. He con- 
'sidered himself answerable for her death, and no other mode of atonement suggesting 
itself to his mind but the heathen one of self-torture, he vowed from henceforth to for- 
feit all his privileges as a gentleman. 

“ He would cease to dress as one, or live the life of one. The poorest laborer on his 
father’s estate should be better clad and better fed. 

“ No doubt there was a great deal of real eccentricity in this, which was sufficiently 
notorious, when he was only a younger son, on but a small allowance. 

“ But when ho became possessed of Oldburn, with an income of fifteen hundred a 
year, and went about almost in the garb of a beggar, and w'as known to live almost 
entirely on the mere scraps left from his servants’ meals, people shook their heads and 
thought him really mad. 

“ Two people only held a diflerent opinion — one was Mr. Joscelyn, and the other 
Mr. Barton, the rector of the parish. The former argued that a man was mad when he 
did mischievous and wicked things, whereas no one could live a more harmless and 
quiet life than Mr. Ambrose. He was good to every one but himself. While Mr. 
Barton had even greater reason to think that some heavy mental grief oppressed him, 
rather than any disease of the brain ; for he acted and spoke as a man atoning for some 
great sin. He was liberal to the poor, generous to his servants, and if he had been 
niggardly towards his niece Clara, it was as much from ignorance of her real wants, 
as fear of getting into the hand^ of his two brothers. 

“ In flict, but for Mr. Barton and Mr. Joscelyn, they would have taken possession of 
him and Oldburn long ago, under the plea that he was insane. 

“ This fear of his brothers so haunted him, that the only hatred he possessed in his 
heart was towards his heirs. 

“ After receiving Clara’s last letter, he was urged in his conscience to go and see 
her. 

“ His opinion of his brothers was such, he felt she might be their victim as well as 
himself. But true to his vow, to allow himself no more indulgence than the poorest 
laborer, he had walked nearly all the way to London. 

What happened there has been recorded. 

“ And now Clara returned to the beloved home of her childhood. 

“ It is impossible to express her happiness, or the happiness that she gave her Uncle 
Ambrose the few years he lived. Their only grief was the state of his health, which 
long years of remorse and penance had so impaired, he could not hope to live long, 


52 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


even loved and tended as he was by his darling Clara. It was the prettiest sight to 
see inern together. It even disarmed those two dreadful brothers, who came down 
more than once on their old scheme of proving him insane, or taking her from him: 

“ Sucli was her firmness, good sense, and fearlessness of them, as she faced them 
with her arm round ‘Papa Ambrose’s ’ neck — so she called him — such his happiness, 
content, and perfect freedom from all eccentricities seated thus, that they saw at once 
and forever they had better go back and struggle with the world, regardless of any 
hope of heirship. 

“ And so far they were better off; for many handsome presents found their way up 
from Oldburn to the poky dingy Hume Villa, and to the rough inhabitants of Newlands 
Farm. 

“ ‘Oh! Clara, how could you permit that, after behaving so ill to you? [never 
would have seen or spoken to them more ! ’ 

“ ‘On the contrary, Mrs. Spooner, now that I was so happy, I began to make excuses 
for them. I remembered the dreadful change from Oldburn to Hume cottage, young 
as I was, and I thought perhaps my uncles had, while young, been treated almost as 
heirs of Oldburn : they had partaken of all its luxuries and comforts, and then, just 
wlien they could least bear it, they had been thrust into the world to fight for an ex- 
istence.’ 

“ ‘ That may be all very well, but it should not have made them cruel and dishonor- 
able.’ 

“ ‘ When one mean passion creeps in, Arabella, others soon follow, until the hole 
they make is large enough for vices and crimes to enter.’ 

“ ‘Perhaps so, Mrs. Joscelyn, but, at least, I hope they got none of Uncle Ambrose’s 
money. I hope he disappointed them there. Clara smiles ; so it is all right.’ 

“ Think of my astonishment when I learned the real truth. 

“ Uncle Ambrose left the estate of Oldburn to his brother Edwin, and half of the 
money he had saved in the funds to Charles, and the other half to Clara. 

“ ‘ Gracious heavens ! ’ I exclaimed, ‘ he was mad, indeed ! Whoever permitted such 
iniquity ? ” 

“ ‘ Clara did herself — indeed, it was she who made her uncle’s will from beginning 
to end, and had great difficulty in making him sign it. He wished to leave everything 
he possessed to her.’ 

“ ‘ And so he ought,” I answered. 

“ ‘But she argued thus, and Mr. Barton and my husband gradually saw the justice 
of what she said : — 

“ ‘ If you. Papa Ambrose, leave everything to me, my uncles will immediately go to 
law with me. They will say you were insane, and unfit to make a will, and we shall 
have our private history dragged to light, and exposed to all the world. Now, I would 
rather have nothing than that.’ 

“ Papa Ambrose shuddered with horror at the very. idea. 

“ ‘ Now, though I am more fond of Oldburn that it is possible to express, yet never 
before has it descended in the female line. For aught we know, there may be some 
old deed preventing a female inheriting; it is not, I believe, quite certain the entail 
was ever broken. This might bring another lawsuit, by which none would benefit but 
the lawyers ; and the rightful owner of Oldburn, when they had settled whom it should 
be, would find him or herself in possession of the estate, but beggared for life. Now, 
Uncle Edwin and Uncle Charles being twins, and nobody knowing to this day which 
was the eldest, it does not matter which has it. But I recommend Uncle Edwin, be- 
cause not only does he love the place as if it was a very paradise, but he is very clever 
in the management of land — and Uncle Charles know's nothing about it.’ 

“ We all admired her wisdom as she said this, and though no one openly remarked 
how sadly the estate was gone to rack and ruin, every one felt that, under the care and 
management of a shrew'd, active man, Oldburn would soon double its value.’ 

“ Uncle Ambrose alone made a remonstrance. 

“ Edw'in has not married as I could wish. Mrs. Edwin is not person I should like to 
see in my mother’s place.’ 

“ Perhaps not. Papa Ambrose,’ answered Clara; “but I fancy if Aunt Patty came 
here as mistress, she would soon learn to think and act like a lady. That is, I mean, 
she would be so anxious to act the lady, she would try her best to become one.” 

“ ‘Do you think honestly, child, that she will ever become a person fit for Mrs. Jos- 
celyn to visit ? ’ 

“ Mrs. Joscelyn answered for herself, saying if there was nothing against her char- 
acter, she should certainly visit her ; for, as far as manners went, there was a certain 
great lady, known to them both, whom all the county visited, courted — nay, wor- 
shipped, and she was as little of a lady, &c., &c. 

“‘Well, well, that is true. If you and the squire promise to give Mrs. Edwin a 
helping hand, Clara shall have her way — Edwin shall have Oldburn.’ 


Clara’s history. 


53 


‘ Thanks, dear Papa Ambrose ; and now you must divide your money between Uncle 
Charles and me.’ 

“My dear, there are great accumulations — they tell me it amounts to eighteen 
thousand pounds.’ 

“ ‘ Heavens ! what a sum! ’ exclaimed Clara, remembering the happy day when she 
was the possessor of a whole shilling, and spent a modicum of it in buying a bit of 
pick ribbon to adorn her throat, blushing to acknowledge the extravagance. 

“ ‘ Yes, child, so you will have ton thousand, and Charles eight.’ 

“ ‘ No, no, divide it equally — poor Uncle Charles has such a dreadful wife^ he will 
always be poor while she lives.’ 

“ ‘ They argued, but Clara had her own way, as she deserved. 

“ Uncle Ambrose lived for five years after this, the happiest man in the world, he 
said. All his misery of former years was amply atoned for by the peace and comfort 
of these five years. He became a deeply religious man, which had the effect of proving 
to him that he had wasted his life in atoning for an act which was as purely accidental 
as any that the providence of God permits to happen to us. 

“ ‘ And how long has he been dead?’ I asked. 

“ ‘ About three 5 ^ears,’ answered Mrs. Joscelyn. 

“ ‘ And what did his brothers say? I should like to have witnessed the scene of the 
reading of the will.’ 

“ ‘ It was truly remarkable ; the two brothers arrived to attend the funeral, and 
both of them announced their intention, not only to their niece, but to every one, that 
they should dispute the will, whatever it might be, on the plea that their brother was 
insane. The lawyer, knowing the contents of the will, was so far true to his vocation, 
that he drew them on to make all sorts of asseverations, the remembrance of which 
ought to make them blush to this day. They showed no grief, and disgusted every- 
body. But, as Clara had foreseen, the revulsion of feeling caused by the unexpected 
nature of the will broke down every barrier, and my dear squire came home quite 
pathetic to me concerning them.’ 

“ ‘ What nipping poverty they must have felt, Lizzy,’ said he, ‘ for great men like 
them to burst out crying with joy. As for Edwin, I feel sure that in the first excite- 
ment he enacted the part of a madman much more in reality that his brother Ambrose 
ever did in his moodiest fits. He tore the will from the lawyer’s hands, he stared at 
his name written therein, as if stricken into stone. Then he shouted; he pointed with 
his finger to his name, he laughed, he cried, he sat trembling as if he saw a ghost ! 
Perhaps at that moment all his wickedness rose before his mental vision ; and he was 
beginning to feel the effects of the “heaping of red-hot coals” on the head of his 
guilty conscience, and Clara stood by, looking like the serene angel she was. It was 
her voice that first awoke him from his bewilderment.’ 

“ ‘ Uncle Edwin,’ she said, ‘ let me congratulate you. I know how you love Old- 
burn ! ” 

“ ‘ Love it ! ’ he murmured, ‘ I have never known happiness out of it.’ 

“ Then he took her hand and kissed it reverently, as a man might kiss the foot of an 
angel just stepped from heaven. 

“ But he could say nothing. Words were denied him. 

“ ‘ And Charles ? ’ 

“ ‘ Well, the squire said he did not behave quite so well as Edwin; it was only when 
he learned that Clara had no more than himself, that he took heartily to his good luck. 
But of the whole company, I suppose no one was so purely happy as Clara.’ 

“Ah I dear Clara, there you sit opposite to me, on your cheek a tear for Uncle Am- 
brose's memory. Gracious goodness 1 when I think how I have thought of you — when 
I remember that I have called you proud, ill-tempered, supercilious — when I recall the 
times I have tried to snub you, depreciate you, dislike you — oh ! dear me, how I hate 
myself! You are quite a heroine — not one of those strong-minded women who go out 
of their way to do things that are much more proper for a man, but you are a true wo- 
manly heroine, the most beautiful of all beautiful things in this world. That is what 
Ivate has just said. Kate asks Clara how her uncles have behaved to her since. 

“ ‘ They love me dearly, and think they can never do enough for me ! ’ 

“ ‘ And how does Mrs. Edwin behave ? ’ 

“ ‘ She is not a bad sort of woman,’ interrupted Mrs. Joscelyn; ‘ she is warm-hearted, 
and if she was sure her husband was not ashamed of her, she would be less awkward 
and more happy. Everything goes on well when Clara visits them, because she treats 
her with so much respect, her husband and children, for very shame, do so likewise. 
Mrs. Barton is very fond of her, and says she is invaluable to her as a help in the par- 
ish. Everybody has his good points, if we would only take half the pains to find them 
out that we take to discover flaws.’ 

“ ‘ And all the cousins ? ’ asked Kate. ‘ Oh ! how Clara blushes ! ’ 

“ ‘ Oh ! ’tis no secret that all Clara’s male cousins are more or less in love with her. 
As for that famous red-headed Bob, to whom her first introduction took place when he 


54 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


was lying all tumbled and tossed on a sofa, it is said that he offers to her every time he 
sees her, and has threatened to shoot himself if she marries any other person. 

“ ‘ Then, gossip,’ whispered Kate, ‘ he had better get his pistols ready ! ’ 

“ ‘ When I grow up,’ observed Bessie, gravely, ‘ I shall act precisely like Clara.’ 

“ ‘ Ah, Bessie ! ’ answered her mother, ‘ where are your uncles Ambrose, Charles, and 
Edwin?’ Be content that you hvae a fond father and mother, and that you will cer- 
tainly be happy all your days, please God.’ ” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

PUFF ! PUFF ! '' 

{Extract from the Gentlemen* s Journal.) 

“ I AM no scribe, for I make Elizabeth answer all my letters ; but they tell me I am 
bound to record my opinion of our present life. 

“ Well, I don’t dislike it, or rather it would be very pleasant indeed, but for one or 
two things. In the first place, we were wrong not to bring with us a good cook. Scrut- 
tles may be very valuable in his way, though what that is we have not yet discovered ; 
but as for cooking, the less said of that the better! I am of opinion a roasted 
potato, or even a boiled egg, is not safe in his hands. Another thing against us is the 
smallness of the island. We are, by contract of renting, not permitted to kill more 
than a certain number of rabbits. Keeping to so many daily, we can knock them over 
in five minutes. For the rest of our sport we have the sea-ibwl and a few land-birds. 
The former are not eatable, and I almost consider it murder to kill that for which one 
has no use. 

“ The fishing is not bad, but we have only one boat, and she is rather small. Alto- 
gether our time hangs a bit heavy on hand. I miss my farm, and thinning the woods 
and laying out the walks,' which, by the by, reminds I me could improve this place won- 
derfully with a few laborers. I’ll sound Spooner and Frank ; perhaps if I take a spade 
in hand, they will help. I should think the convict knows how to dig and break stones 
a bit. I make no doubt of it that he understands that sort of thing a vast deal better 
than cooking, and yet I can’t help liking — no, hang it I pitying the poor beast ! He is 
so awfully anxious to please ! I mean to have his history out of him some day. 

“Another mistake we have made is, only to have the boat from Rampton once a week. 
Every other day would have brought us newspapers, and fresh milk and butter. I have 
taken to sherry and water as the best substitute for tea. Now that’s a thing I miss. I 
like a good cup of tea, and nobody makes it to my mind but 

“‘Hullo! squire, why, are you writing a novel? That’s the fourth page you have 
turned over.’ 

, “ ‘ I write rather a large hand, Spooner; but I don’t want to take more than my share. 
You just stopped me in the nick of time.’ 

“ ‘ I should think I had,’ writes Mr. Spooner, ‘ evidently a name was about to be writ- 
ten that has no license to be recorded in the Puff Journal. And yet why not? Are the 
holiest feelings of our nature, the dearest thoughts of our hearts, the most beloved 
names, to be arbitrarily dismissed from our thoughts, our tongues, our pens, by the fiat 
of a mortal will? Surely not. I also could name a name, but why do so? Will the 
doing so soothe the present hour? Will it bring the object nearer? Will it satisfy 
the longings of a too fervid imagination? No — then let the name be. Let me bring 
down my thoughts from their elevated fiight among the regions of happiest fancy, and 
cast them upon this island on which we are located. Are we happy? Yes. I look 
around me, and see all the materials for happiness within our grasp. Here, we live free 
from all cares, all trials, all heart-burnings. Our lives pass in the calmest repose. Each 
does just what he likes best ; and for those whose minds are tuned to literary fancies, 
this pause in the busy work of the world is delicious. I dip into my favorite poets, and 
I cannot conceive any reasonable mortal feeling dull, or finding time hang heavy on hand, 
if he has his favorite authors to commune with : 

‘ Give me leave 

To enjoy myself; that place that does contain 
My books, the best companions, is to me 
A glorious court — where hourly I converse 
With the old sages aud philosophers.’ 


puff! puff! 


55 


“ ‘ Spooner, you are not fair — you are copying sentiments out of a book.’ 

“ ‘By no means, my dear Crabsliawe, I was merely looking to see if my quotation 
was correctly written.’ 

“ ‘ And what right have you to quote ? Can’t you say fair and straight you never were 
happier ? ’ 

“ ‘ I beg your pardon. It would be an injustice to one I will not name if I averred 
that this was the most felicitous portion of 1115'^ life. On the contrary, it is due to her 
— to — I mean that person — to state that, though I am happy, remarkably happy, yet 
still there is one lunar circle of my life ” 

“ ‘ In which you were particularly moonstruck.’ 

“ ‘ I can very well understand, Crabshawe, that you are totally incapable of compre- 
hending the finer feelings of our nature — so we will not argue the point. But, if I am 
to write in the journal, I must not be interrupted.’ 

“ ‘Very good — I am mum.’ ” 

Spooner took up his pen, and filled it carefully with ink. 

“ What an exquisite pleasure there is in an independent life ! We want food; with 
the self-reliance, with the indomitable pluck of the ancient Briton, we shoulder our 
arms and go forth to procure it. In doing so, we feast our eyes on the beauties of na- 
ture. In her sweet countenance (unheeded amid the vortex of the world’s pleasures) 
we find stores of treasures that delight us with their novelty. 

“There are the ever-varying hues of heaven, painting its pictures on the mirrored 
sea. Again, ocean is moved to her innermost cavern, she heaves with great sobs, she 
lashes the shore with passion, she rolls and roars with mighty and resistless power. 
The fleet she bears upon her bosom — our nation’s pride, our glorious navy — stagger 
from stem to stern. Like wayward corks upon the water, they toss about as if she were 
playing with them. Mighty ocean, the most unchangeable of all God’s works ! what 
treasures dost thou not hold within thy water-palaces ! At times they are thrown up 
on thy twice-laved shore, teaching us the vanity of all earthly things. 

Such are some of the feelings engendered by our present life. They take one out of 
one’s self. In the world there is no opportunity to experience this calm, this pause in 
one’s career. No thrilling emotion tingles through my veins ; I am stirred by no inward 
throb. The anticipation of the next moment occasions no agitation. Life is a gentle 
burden ; like the froth on ocean’s wave, I am tossed about careless and light. 


‘ What is life worth without a heart to feel 
The great and lovely, and the poetry 
And sacredness of things ? ’ 

“ ’Tis a happy existence, reminding me of the sportive life of my boyhood. Never- 
theless, the godlike nature of conscience makes itself felt. It reminds me of a certain 
Tuesday in the wild but match-making month of February. On that Tuesday I pro- 
nounced vows. I solemnly undertook the charge of a gentle, fragile being, whose name 
I Avill not mention. But conscience asks, am I performing those vows ? It appears 
not. Then is this calm deceitful — this delicious life a snare ? Nevertheless, there is an 
end proposed in it, a purpose for the benefit of the nameless one — for that end I live. 

“ I am surprised that we received no message by the old herring man. But why 
surprised? A philosophic mind ought not to alloAV itself to be surprised. 

“ And yet I have had to express great astonishment at the various and complicated 
mysteries of cooking. Even a simple potato declines to be mashed here as it does at 
home. Can it be the climate or the water? To be sure, as George said, there was 
rather a taste of snufl* in those we had yesterday. We questioned* Scruttles closely, but 
he swore solemnly, ‘ never no snufl* came anigh his noddle,’ and as is the duty of one 
man towards another, unless you have excellent reasons to the contrary, I believed 
him. 

“ Perhaps Sam — but no, I will not hurt the feelings of his master. 

“ To-day, being partial to puddings, I assisted Frank to cook the dinner. We con- 
cocted a pudding between us. While we were mixing the ingredients Frank made a 
very sensible remark, — 

“ ‘ Society is like this pudding, Spooner — it ought to be composed of different in- 
gredients, and well mixed.’ 

“ ‘ I object,’ remarked Crabshawe, ‘ to one ingredient, and that is woman.’ 

“ ‘ The foundation of my pudding should be woman, and woman only,’ answered 
Frank, boldly. 

“ ‘ Why, Summers, I thought I was curing you of that nonsense.’ 

“You cannot cure a man of a disease that he loves better than his health.’ 

“ ‘ Pooh ! pooh ! you only say that to vex me.’ 

“ Perhaps he did. At any rate, if he really loves, he is remarkably cheerful under the 
circumstances. He is the right hand of us all. Good Frank! if he really thinks as he 
says, I must give him some of my experience. 


56 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“ Granting that the mixing of one’s pudding is typical of the mingling of society, 1 
must say that, to make woman the foundation of it, would be to spoil the pudding — we 
should have too much of one thing. But mixed in proper proportions (by the by, no 
wonder our pudding was a little heavy, Scruttles has just shown us the whites of the 
ego-s which were to have been whipped and thrown in), they are absolutely necessary 
to the formation of society ; in fact, society without the admission of women, would be 
as tasteless as — as ” 

“Your pudden.” 

It is supposed that Mr. Spooner was called away, leaving his sentence unfinished, or 
that he failed to find a proper simile, for the conclusion was in another writing. 

The style of Captain Crabshawe’s writing was on a par with his spelling. Ills re- 
marks seem to have been prepared with a view to compose a paragraph in a “ Reading 
made easy.” 

“ Fine day,” he continues, “ sport good, smoke when we like — that is the thing ! It 
is rong to say men carnt live without wimmen. All I can say is, and I no I am rite in 
what I say, it is they bring the trubble. If any one wants to be happy, let him come to 
Puli'. He shall have a harty welcome. There are a set of good fellows there that wood 
not change with auny one. It rekuires no more words to tell of our content. We have 
but one want, and that is a handy fellow to help Scruttles. I make no remarks, but 
that’s my pinion. I think it the manly thing to do to state the truth. 

(Signed) “ A. C.” 

“ Great bore keeping this journal, but I suppose I must take my turn at it. In fact, 
our whole life is only composed of turns. What wdth taking my turn to do without 
Sam, and then to have a turn to do wdth that beast Scruttles, going on with having to 
do everything for myself, except when I am doing something for everybody else, with 
the turn of having nothing done for me by anybody, by Jove ! I am twisted out of my 
own individuality. 

“ I believe Adam was right, that is if he had a choice in selecting his companion. 
There is something deuced good-natured in the female composition. They don’t mind 
giving you up a nice book, even if they are in the third volume. 

“ It is the dowagers I dislike. They are always making up to one to induce one to 
^ make up to their daughters. It disgusts a fellow with the whole sex. I wish all the 
dowagers were in paradise. No, that won’t do, for I want to go there myself. I 
wonder who thought of sending the herring man here to-day. It’s odd they did not 
say, at least, that they were well. How do they pass their time, I should like to know? 
Here, if we could not take refuge in sleep, the time would be deuced heavy. I am not 
fond of poetry, like Spooner, or your philosophical, metaphysical ponderosities, like 
Frank, and I have nearly finished all the novels. 

“ The squire has just declared he does not sleep well at night. ‘Good heavens! 
then, my dear squire, why do you take the trouble to snore ? ’ 

“ I wdsh I knew what to say next. I cannot fill up my part of the journal with quo- 
tations of poetry. By the by, we enjoy one thing in perfection, and that is smoking. 
Truly we puff to our hearts’ content. There is also another comfort — one can say just 
whatever comes into one’s head without the fear of any one taking hold of your words, 
and bringing you to book for them. 

“ One thing is, we shall not stay here long. If we find our lives monotonous, the 
ladies must be in the depth of dulness. I look to see the flag up any day; so, I sup- 
pose, does Frank, as he is constantly going out to spy it. 

“ The bay looked very pretty to-day, when one of the Trinity yachts came in, and 
steamed about lookiqg for her anchorage. It is something like life to see her. I 
wonder who is in command? It is a great mistake our not ordering a boat to come 
and take us to church. Our lishiug-boat is too small, even if we could row it in our 
go-to-meeting clothes. And as for sitting within twenty yards of that convict, I 
would not do it to save my life. I am not at all surprised at Sam’s dislike to the fellow. 
A respectable servant, such as Sam is, ought to have a respectable fellow-servant to 
associate with. I shall remonstrate seriously with the squire. There is one person 
here whom it is useless to consult. 

“ G. F.” 

“ I hope that is not me. I acknowledge that I am a brute, and have felt a brute ever 
since I came to Puff. I perceive this book — this journal — has a command written on 
its first page. I recognize the handwriting of our king. It therefore behooves us to 
obey the order, which is to write ‘the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the 
truth.’ I hope my companions have sincerely fulfilled the command. I fully intend to 
do so. I will begin by proving not only that I am a brute, but that all my companions 
are brutes. 

“ God made us men. He endowed us with reason. He gifted us with strength. He 
permitted us a natural love of power, and encouraged us with the indisputable posses- 


puff! puff! 


57 


Sion of spirit and gallantry. We "were to use all these gifts in the service and for the 
pleasure of those who, resembling beings of another world, are of so refined, so intel- 
lectual a nature, they were formed on purpose for us to serve and worship. Perhaps 
there is some pleasure in one man showing another he can ride, fish, shoot, hunt better 
than the other ; perhaps there is a secret delight in proving one’s self wiser than the 
wisest. Perhaps there is a glow in our hearts at the thought. ‘ We are so strong ! — 
we can knock a man, just like ourselves, down ! ’ All this I will allow. But how about 
the love of power, the courage to do and dare, the desire to be knightly and courteous ? 
We cannot all rule, and none obey; we don’t want to do another man’s barking when 
he has got a dog of his own. We have no wish to run headlong into dangers and dis- 
agreeables for only a man. Our natural pluck will make us punch our enemies our- 
selves. 

“ Therefore we have had gifts given us for an especial purpose. Failing that service, 
we have no use for them. We become merely the animal — the brute. At present our 
sole pursuit is that of shedding blood. Our greatest pleasure is to gormandize, and 
our most innocent amusement is to smoke away the little sense we have left. 

“ Let me place before you the picture of one day here at this delectable island of 
Puff. 

“We rise in the morning without an object, until one presents itself to us, in the 
shape of procuring something to eat, or cooking it. We neither dress like gentlemen, 
or act as such. One suppose, by the snarling and snapping that goes on, we 

intended to imitate the manners of a pack of hounds. 

“ We have a most wretched breakfast, served in a most deplorable manner, in which 
our least discomfort is the want of something we can eat. There is no fresh rose-bud 
of a face opposite to whom you can offer mufllns in the hope of receiving a smile as 
thanks ; no lovely and beneficent being by your side who wants the salt, or who wishes 
to add to her sweetness by a spoonful of honey ; no beautiful and kind hostess pouring 
out your tea, making it a positive pleasure to drink it from her hand. 

“I am of Crabshawe’s mind, ’tis better to go to the cupboard and eat when one is 
hungry, than to sit down to any meal where the table is not beautified and refined by 
the presence of those divine beings. I respect Crab’s feelings', and will not write down 
in his Puff’s journal a name he does not wish to see. 

“ But let him picture to liimself how ^ve breakfast now. Each snatches at that which 
is nearest to him, and should it by a happy diance be less nauseous than usual, he takes 
good care not to divulge the fact. But he cuts and eats, and smiles to himself. 

“ ‘ Ila! ha! ’ thinks he, ‘ to-day I shall not starve.’ 

“ As for tea, happily that is given up. Partly because we have no cream or milk, 
and partly because the only man that can make it declines to do what is the prettiest, 
sweetest, dearest act of — a divine creature. It is her province, her right. Her dainty 
fingers can play among the dainty china ; but for a man, simply he deserves to have 
his head broken for even making the attempt. 

“ After breakfast, we wrangle as to what we shall do ; certainly we amuse ourselves 
wrangling, we are always at it, no matter how trifling the matter. 

“ Some decide to shoot, one intends to fish, a third fancies a book, and under pre- 
tence of reading, sleeps the dull hours away. 

“ But we meet at that farce called dinner. We wrangle over that, though goodness 
knows for what. It is not worth it, and is only so much better than breakfast, that it 
is so much later in the day. 

“ We certainly have novelties at our dinner, that we can never hope to see else- 
where. 

“ Scruttles only requires to be put in the way of things ; my dear Frank, do you think 
you could give him a lesson or two? 

“ I signified my sense of the honor conferred on me of being tutor to the ‘ ex-convict,’ 
and modestly proposed to make some coflee at once, which was a success. Without 
vanity, I may claim the high position of being the best cook on the island. Certainly 
that is not saying much, for, as the truth is to be told, I don’t think there is anybody 
else that knows a bit about it. 

“ Nevertheless, I pride myself most on the fact that, when cooking, I wear an apron! 

“ In the evening we wrangle over whist, to which we diligently devote ourselves for 
four or five hours, amusing ourselves between whiles, with railing at Sam or kicking 
Scruttles. 

“ l^rivately, we are each devoured by curiosity to know what the ‘ divine creatures ’ 
are thinking, doing, and saying; and more than one of us heartily pray in secret that 
their patience would give way, and that they would send us a message of compromise. 
But they won’t. You need not hope, you may cease to pray. If they become mum- 
mies through dulness, they will never give in. My mother used to tell me that Job 
was the model of all patience. I will back any ‘ divine creature ’ against him, when 
her plumage is ruflled. 

8 


58 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“ Come, here is some amusement — the squire has sent for Scruttles to relate his 
history. Pen in hand, I will note down the. interesting particulars. 

“ By the dumbfounded appearance of the ‘ excellent convict,’ I think the squire has 
astonished him more than ever he was astonished before. It is evident that Scruttles 
has not that opinion of his past life that makes him think it worth the relating. Judg- 
ing by the additional twist of ugliness into which he has screwed his most forbidding 
countenance, the less said about his antecedents the better. 

“ If it was possible to make a bolt of it, Scruttles would bolt ; but being on an island, 
as much imprisoned as in the strongest jail, he must face his positon. But there are 
mitigating circumstances. The squire gives him a good steaming glass of gin-toddy to 
refresh his memory now and then, and he is allowed to sit down, and also twirl what he 
uses for a hat. 

“ Conscious of these favorable points, Scruttles clears his throat; evidently he has 
settled it with his conscience that he will draw largely on his imagination. 

“ ‘ If Muster Squire will have his story, why, he must just take what he can get.’ 

“ The squire has ratlier a sneaking kindness for Scruttles, founded, he himself says, 
upon the extraordinary amount of ugliness he could bring to bear on his countenance. 

“‘It is quite an art, sir,’ remarked the squire, speaking to no one in particular; 
‘ every time I look at him, his ugliness strikes me with new wonder.’ 

“And now imagine us grouped round the amiable ‘convict.’ The squire in the 
largest chair, a noble cigar in his mouth, his legs wide apart, his countenance beaming 
with intense interest. Our King Crab just behind him, with a clay pipe, sucking in 
volumes of smoke, and ejecting them energetically ; he is pleased at the prominent 
position of his ‘ convict.’ 

“ George is rather in the background; he meditates a snooze, I fancy. Spooner is 
deeply interested. Some philosophical question in the matter of Scruttles is about to 
be solved ; he leans forward full of interest. His cigar is in his mouth, but he has for- 
gotten to light it. Sam hovers in the distance ; Sam looks as if he could put his thumb 
to his nose.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE HISTORY OF SCRUTTLES RELATED BY THE ‘‘EXCELLENT CONVICT” HIMSELF. 

“ I don’t remember me nothing about being born, please yer honor. I were a hor- 
phan, and I mostly lived hunder a pair of stairs wi’ Jem. Jem were my brother, least- 
way he said so. 

“ Jem were older nor me, and in coorse he knowed the rights of the case better nor 
I could. But in the matter of larruping me, cribbing my wittles, and a-cussing and a- 
swearing at me, and a-knocking of me down, and leaving me to pick myself hup, Jem 
was surely an out-and-out brother to me. There worn’t no mistake about that, any 
how. 

“ I was amost eight years old, when Jem says to me I were growed too big to live 
with him, and considering as he couldn’t stand upright unless he wor a-sitting, and that 
I could not lie down on my bed because of his cheer, why, I do suppose as he had a bit 
of reason. It wor an uncommon small place to be sure. 

“ ‘ Well, Jem,’ I says, ‘ if so be as you says that I must go, why, I do suppose that go 
I must,’ I says. 

“ ‘ Ay,’ says Jem, ‘ go ye must, and the sooner the better.* 

“ ‘ Well, Jem,’ says I, ‘ go I will, but will you tell me where I be to go ? ’ 

“ ‘ Oh! bother,’ Jem says, ‘ what’s that to me? you take yourself hoff, or I’ll'wollop 
you in a brace of shakes I ’ 

“With that I went, gentlemen; because, you see, I had allers found Jem true to his 
word. With that I went, gentlemen ” 

Here Scruttles paused, looking round with a hideous leer for compassion ; taking a 
gulp of his gin- toddy to assist. 

The squire, staring at him in admiration of this new phaze of ugliness, gave him his 
sympathy at once. 

“ Poor fellow ! — and where did you go ? ” 

“ Well sir, yer honor; I were a dootiful lad, so I went back to my mother.” 

“ Your mother I I thought you said you were an orphan?” 

“ She were my step-mother, and an uncommon wick ” 

“ But who was your father? ” 

“ My father, sir ! I never had one — leastways, I never heard of him.” 

“ Then how could you have a step-mother? ” 


THE HISTORY OF SCRUTTLES. 


59 


“ I begs your pardiug, sir, humbly; she were my mother-in-law.” 

“ Pooh ! pooh ! married at eight years old? ” 

•“ Don’t bother him, squire, he means foster-mother. I had a foster-mother, and I 
believe she is alive to this day, and a horrid old troublesome hag she is,” interrupted 
King Crab. 

“Well, Scruttles, whether it was your own mother in the form of a ghost, or your 
step-mother, or your mother-in-law, or your foster-mother, go on, in the name of 
goodness ! ” 

“ I will, please j’-er honor. About this time I wor in a little trouble, and I mostly 

think as that there wor the reason why Jem thought I was growed, and so my So my 

mother she wor mad wi’ Jem for sending me home like, and she said if I stayed another 
minute in that there place, as she ’ood break every bone in my body — which in coorse, 
gentlemen, was not to be thought on by me ; so I says, ‘ mother,’ says I, ‘ keep yerself 
to yerself and you’ll please yerself,’ and with that I went, gentlemen.” 

A long pause. Scruttles hoped to be encouraged by more sympathy, or was concoct- 
ing fresh matter from the rich treasures of his imagination. His auditors were begin- 
ning to feel that the story of the “ excellent convict ” was deficient in two things — 
interest and truth. But a good refresher of gin-toddy started him again. 

“ With that, gentlemen, I went ; and I’ll not deny as I was uncommon low, and I wor 
a-thinking as perhaps the best thing as I cud do, was to seek for my old dad.” 

“You said you had no father,” exclaimed the squire, impatiently. 

“ No, sir, he worn’t a father at all. We called him dad, cos why, he tuk a lot of us 
boys in, and we worked for him. Dad wor a man with a hawful temper, and when he 
wor angry, there worn’t no mistake about it, ye see. When dad saw me, he hup with 
his toe and kicked me right into the gutter. 

“ ‘ You cum here, ye blessed jail-bird,’ says he ; ‘ cut yer lucky out of my sight,’ and 
^ a deal more. With that I went, gentlemen.” 

“Yours is a very old story, Scruttles. What had you done, a child of eight years 
old, to make them all so cruel? ” 

“ It wor the bit of trubble I were in, yer honor.” 

“ But you never told us about your trouble. How could a boy like you have any 
trouble?^ 

“ Well7you see, sir, this wor how it were. I were a-walking one arternoon down St. 
Giles’s way, and I seed a kercher a-lying on the pavement, a-doing nuffin at all. So I 
picks him hup ; and ’aving a cold in my lied, I wipes my nose on him, and jist as I did 
so a pleeceman lugs ’old of my ’air, and says, ‘ Cum wi’ me.’ Now Jem had tould me 
horful things of those there places as pleecemen takes boys tew, and I were skeered. 
So I made a dart between pleeceman’s legs — he wor that orkard as he toppled over 
into the gutter, and I wor out of tight when he picked hisself hup. But he knowedme 
the next time as hever he sawed me — and they were so uncommon kind, those pleece- 
men, that I mostly think as there were a score of ’em alius luiking out for me. So, 
gentlemen, with that I went.” ' 

“To jail?” 

Scruttles nodded. 

“ And they talk of justice in England,” exclaimed the squire, bitterly. “ A poor un- 
fortunate eight-years old boy to be sent to jail for picking up a handkerchief! Upon my 
soul it’s enough to put a man in a passion I ” 

“ Justice probably had her spectacles on, and saw the other end of the handkerchief 
in a pocket,” remarked Frank. 

“ No, sir, I axes your parding; it were not an old lady in spectacles, it were ” 

A pause. 

“Go on, Scruttles,” said King Crab; “get to something lively. Miss all your boy 
tricks, and begin again, when you were a man ; he will have some famous adventures 
in the bush, I dare say.” 

“ Ay, sir, them wor days ! ” 

“ But I should like to know how you got there,” observed the squire. 

“ Well, sir, yer honor, I went by sea.” 

“ Pooh — I mean why you went there.” 

“ Well, sir, yer honor, the devil a bit I know the reason. I had been in a bit of 
trubble.” 

“ Another trouble ? ” 

“ Oh I laws, yes, yer honor; I were allays in a bit of trubble. I was no sooner out of 
won, than, as ill luck would ’ave it, I cotched another.” 

“Always about handkerchiefs, Scruttles?” 

“ No, yer ’onor ; I wor one of those poor critters born wi’ a ’art, yer ’onor. I wor in 
love and my dispositions being ’onerubble, I says to Jude — Judith wor her rale name, 
but Jude was her love name like — I says to Jude, ‘Now, I means ’onerable by yer, 
Jude, and so we’ll be wed, but, as I harn’t the ’onor of a ’quaintance wi’ a parson, why, 
Jude, yer must go yerself and settle it,’ I says. Wi’ that, gintlemen, Jude she bust hout 


60 


lords and ladies. 


a larflnf?. ‘ Why,’ says she, ‘ I don’t know noffin of a parson neither.’ So ye see, gin- 
tiemen we wor ik a fix, Jude and me. And I had got the wictiials for the weddiir least, 
and me and my pals had a paction atween for a good lot o’ lickcr. 

“ ‘ Well ’ says I, we’ll be wed anyhow, Jude, for I mean ye onorable. Let s a\e old 
dad as parson,’ I says. And she wor willin’. But old dad, he said as lie couldn t wed 
we without a ring, he says, gintlemcn, so Jude and me tuk on dreiful. Ihen sa5'^s old 
dad ‘ I ’ave a ring - give me two bob. and I’ll loan it yer.’ Wi’ that, gintlemcn, bein’ 
’onerable I beat him down to one bob, and_ old dad set to work to wed we ; and the 
rin", it wor a butiful ring, rale goiild, wi’ shinin’ stones fixed in it, and I wor a-thinkm 
arter we wor wed as Jude shouldn’t give it back to old dad, it wor so unLimmen gen- 
teel like Well we wor a-bein’ wed, and the butiful ring it wor in my ’and, Avhen I wofi 
tuk so unkimmen bad wi’ a stitch or choleray, that I had to bolt hout hinto the hair, 
giiitlemen, and, has ill luck wood ’ave it, I ran rite hinto the very body of a beak. ‘ Ho, 
says he, ‘ hi ’ave been a-lookin’ for you, my brick; cum along wi’ me.’ Wi’ that I went, 

gintlemen.” , . ... 

“ IIow so? Did not tell him you were just about to be married — though it would 


have been no marriage, Scruttles.” . . , , , i i i + 

“ So I do suppose, yer honor, but then my eddication ’ad never been hattended to, 
yer honor, and I nowed no better. My wishes wor to be ’onerable.’.’ 

“ And why did the beak want you? ” 

“ AYell, sir, it wor all along o’ my father.” 

“ Good heavens ! why, you said you never had a father.” 

» Laws, sir, we is bound to ’ave a father, wether he be a father or no. Mine worn’t 
by no manner of means a father to me, and never wor, and that’s why I were a hor- 
phan. lie worn’t no credit to me as a father, and so I cut him. He guv me one day a 
ole ankercher of gran does, and it were as if Muster Poole, that were the tailor’s name 
on these here does, had a measured me. So in coorse I ’ad ’em on to be wed. And 
wood yer think it, gintlemen, my father ’ad a-stole those clothes. He were a wery ac- 
tive chap, and had follered a cab, and ’ad cut off a pormapty, and he ’ad the huiifediug 
’art as to give me the does, and I were a- wearing thim, and the beaks they were artey 
him, and he ’ad the owdodous williany to tell them their beaks as I tuk the portmanty 
hofl'the cab, and I were then a- wearing of the does, which I were, gentlem^, I’ll not 
deny. And so he tells ’em where I be, and the hend of it were, that — with that I 
went, gentlemen.” 

“To prison?” 

Scruttles nodded. 

Then he groaned. 

“ Such a huiifediug willain of a father I ” 

“ And how long did you stay there ? ” 

“ Well, yer honor, it were a weary time. Polks were a beginning then to bussy they- 
sels about the prisons, and we was a’most tortured wi’ parsons, and buiks, and ser- 
mons, and tracts, as folks as is called Filanderers.’ 

“ Philanthropists,” suggested Spooner. 

“ Maybe, sir, but I didn’t consort with anny of they folks. It were about bad enuf to 
be there, annyhow ; aud then to be impoged upon, aud worrited, and never let alone — 
it wor as aggrawating as noffin. And I ’umbly ’opes as parliament will see us righted. 
We does our turn at the tread-mill, and we picks our lot of oakum, and we jams away at 
the stones, and we is stopped in our baccy, and I wud like for to know, yer honor, if 
a hiron steam hingin of a ’orse could do more ? It’s that as I wants to know.” 

“ But how long did you stay there ? ” 

“ Well, sir, yer houor, I were not nigh so long as Jem — my unkle — you know, yer 
honor, as turned me out from hunder the stairs ” 

“You said he was your brother,” said Summers, as the squire cast a hopeless glance 
at him. 

“ Well, sir, it were never rightly known as to which he were. And if ye’ll b’leave 
me, gintlemen, he married Jude, her as I guv my heart to.” 

“ Yes, sir, yer honor, Jem he married Jude — my sweetheart. We was all there, in 
trouble together.” 


“ What ! Jude, andr dad, and Jem? ” 

“ Ay, sir, and father and mother, and my eldest sister Sal, and her babby — all along 
o’ that theer fine goold ring. In coorse, when I had went where I went, this fine 
goolden ring were in my hand, and in coorse they as tuk me where I went, says they, 
‘ And where didst thou crib that? ’ So in coorse I tould ’em, and they sends, they do, 
and nabs ’em, all and I were a most knocked down in my feelin’s when I sees ’em all 
a walkin hin. And they was tuk uncommon strong, tew, in their feelins.” 

“ I sot down. And arter that Jem — my brother as were — he got fourteen year, and 
Jude, she got seven year — that were how it were as they got married — leastways so 
they said they was — cos as ’ow they thought as they ’ood go together ; but Jude, she 


THE HISTORY OF SCRUTTLES. 61 

went a longer in the same ship as me, and I says to Jude, I says, ‘ Make it hup, lass.’ 
and Jude her seemed pleasant, and her did say on her mug as her were willing.” 

“ What do you moan, Scruttles ? ” 

“ Well, sir, there were to be no kummuications atwixt any of we as went; and so, 
as the mother of inwention is a mighty kurous critter, w’e wos hused to scrat on the 
pewter mugs wot hideas came into our ’eds ; and Jude, not ’aving larnt the hart of 
writing, her heddication ’aving been us little tuk notish of as yer humble servant, why, 
she got another gurl as culd do it to rite for her. Well, we were about landing, and I 
were a thinking as may be I might get into the Bush along wi’ Jude, when that there 
gurl as wrote on her mug, says to me, says she, ‘ Jude means to go along wi’ dad ; ’ 
mid I were a considerable riled, and, being so tender-’arted, all my bind were up, and 
it seemed to keep a ’ammering in my ’ed, and a running just for the world the wrong 
way, and that made me seem so as I culd see noffin. As I were a walking on the deck, 
and dad he were a walking tew, and I never seed un, but, being tuk unkimmon bad wi’ 
gripes or choleraye, I runs bolt up again dad, and he topples over the side, and I’m 
a most feared as poor dad wuld have drowned, but, in coorse, as luck would ’ave it, he 
were chained to another man ; and that there chap were a mighty strong fellow, and 
’aving no mind to drown wi’ dad, why, he thought it most the best thing as he culd do 
were to pull hard and ’oiler for his life. With that, gentlemen, I went.” 

“ Down into the hold, I hope, heavily ironed, the best and fittest place for you.” 

“ I ’umbly axes yer pardiug, sir ; I went into ’ospital. I were tuk with the choleraye 
in my brain, I were so tender-’arted. I were in ’ospital until we lauded, and arter that 
I were tuk up kuntry by a man as ’ad occasion for a strong yuseful chap as Sheppard, 
yer honor. He axed me as wos I fond of mutton ; and I says, ‘Wery’; and wi’that, 
sir, I went up kuntry. 

“ Me and my master were unkimmon full of each other as we was a going hup 
kuntry ; and if it wor the last words as I suld ever ’ave ocasion to say, I will make no 
denial of the truth, but he were wery ’andsome in his treatment. I were a thinking at 
last my trubble was hended, and my wartues was rewarded, and it were not so bad a 
kuntry arter all. It wor a chokery kuntry for dust, and my master, he were quite con- 
winced o’ that there fact ; so, we were allais a w^ashen the dust down. 

“Never mind the dust — goon; you and your master did not continue such good 
friends, I conclude I ” 

“ As fur the matter o’ that, sir, yer honor, I bears he no malis ; I were a heasy-going 
chap, and I says to him, ‘ Don’t yer holler at me, I ’ave ’ad the choleraye in my ’cd,’ 

‘ and it a most makes me mad.’ Because ye see, yer honor, he w’cre a ’ollering at me, 
all day long, on akounts of these there sheep. He said as he wanted a shepard, and no 
sich a brute as a London jaihbud, who ’ad never set heyes on a sheep in all his born 
days, which were a hobservation, gentlemen, that in regard of the truth of it, was 
about the biggest lie as I ever heard tell on, as, in coorse, I ’ad seen ’em ’anging up in 
the butchers shops by dozens. I were a seeking one day for these here blessed sheep 
of hisn, which, for getting of theyselves into bushes, and kuntries, and mountains, 
where they hadn’t no call to go, and for rampaging and skurrying, and straggling, and 
bolting just w'here they’d no occashion, air the most oudacious, aggrawaterynt, cantan- 
kerous set of heythens as mortal man were ever bothered with; and I were arcost be- 
side myself with heat and wexation, when I comes to a purty sort of a house like, and 
I taps at the door, just to ax for a drop of summat, being spent wi’ toil and aggraAva- 
tion. And the master of that purty place, he comes liout, and he takes hon liaAvful, 
along of theye oudacious cantankerous sheep, as had been in ’is patch o’ corn. And I 
axes ’is parding, and were civil and genteel like ; and Avith that he gits the better of 
hisself, and he axes me hin; and then he turns on the Parliament dredful for sending 
hout into this fine kuntry such a hawful set of blackguards as knoAvs nothing at all but 
murder, and thieving, and stealing, and lying; and he says — ‘ My man,’ says he, ‘ you 
look strong and active,’ says he, ‘ why don’t you,’ says he, ‘ turn over a neAV leaf,’ 
says he, ‘ and become honest? ’ says he. 

“ ‘ I ax yer pardon, sir,’ says I, ‘I ain’t myself, sir, I belong to the British Parlia- 
ment, sir.’ 

“ ‘ That won’t perwent yer being honest,’ says he, ‘ if you had been the man I Avant 
ye to be, ye would have been watchful, and not let my friend yure master’s sheep get 
into my corn-land. He is a good neighbor of mine, and Avould cut his right hand off 
before he would injure a friend, or do ’er Avrong, but cursed as we are by Government 
servants, it’s pitiful work. Come, my man, do yer duty, and I’ll stand a friend to you.’ 

“ Noav, I’ll not deny, as there wor a somethin’ as guv me a dig in my ribs. He Avere 
a fine man were that ; he were so heartsome. 

“ But yer see, gentlemen, it were not to be as we suld be friendly, and it came about 
all along of Sal, she that were my cousin.” 

“ Sal, being servant to this here good harty gentleman, Avhy, in coorse, being neigh- 
bors, I tuk to courting Sal ; this here master of hern, he were all for making fellers 
’appy. He ’ad his feelins, he ’ad. No man could desire a better master, and I amost 


62 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


think as I should never no more ’ave ’ad a bit of trouble if I bided with him. Foi in 
coorse, when he found as Sal and me was wed ” . o >» 

“ IIow could you marry without leave of Government — both convicts^ 

“ That is ’ow it were, sir; when Sal brings me the bit victual and drink, as him did 
order, I screeched out at sight o’ she, and she’ollered like hany thing; and I says, says 
I, upon his axing the reason, ‘ she be my wife ! ’ 

“ Sal were the girl as wrote that there on Jude’s mug, and I knowed Sal were fond 
of me ; and with that she tumbles into my harms, and takes the hint pretty kind. 

“ ‘ Well,’ says her master, ‘ I am not one to part man and wife, so I’ll speak up for ye 
at the Coort, and if your master will give ye up. I’ll take ye on wi’ me.’ 

“ By the by, Scruttles, what was your Christian name ? ” 

“ I never hed none, yer honor.” 

“ But what did people call you? ” 

“ They just called me onny names they had a mind to ; I made no dejections. ’ 

“ What did Jude call you? ” 

“ Hall the hawfullest names as ever you hecrd on ! I a’most thought on times as she 
wood break her teeth wi’ hard names, and I am constant in my persuasions as she wore 
’em out wi’ talking. Oh ! Jude had a tongue I ” 

“ Who gave you the name of Scruttles ? ” 

“ I don’t rightly know, sir, unless it were my noble capting there.” 

“Me, Scruttles? No such thing. I always supposed you had the same* name as 
your mother — she, you know, who called on me to tell me you had got home, and 
wanted employment.” 

“Now, upon my word,” interrupted the squire, “ if Scruttles has really a mother, I 
shall be glad to see her.” 

“ Well, you may see her any day at Kampton; she lives just out of the town, and 
keeps a little shop. The old man goes out to weed.” 

“ Come, come. Go back to your new master — how long did you live with him ? ” 

“ Axing yer parding, sir, I never lived wi’ him a day, more’s the sorra. It were in 
this manner as it came about : I were awaiting at my master’s for leave to go from 
his station to Sal’s master, and a thinking of Sal, and all that there, there came a mes- 
senger like mad a sayin’ as Sal’s master’s place were set on by the natyves, and he want- 
ed ’elp. So my master, he harms ’isself and his men, and hi takes a ’atchet, and hoff 
we goes to help, and hi were in a mortal way about Sal, a thinking as sum black heder- 
ous critter of an ludyman would ha’ tuk her hoff fur her beauty — for she were a buti- 
fUl critter, wi’ hair as bright and as red as a live coal, and such a strapper, whereas 
Jude ” 

“ Go on — get to Sal’s master.” 

“ Well, sir, it worn’t no manner o’ use getting there. The purty house wor burnt, 
and there were no signs of onny one. Wi’ that my master w’ere tuk hawful bad, and 
he says, says he to hjs men, ‘ tis no natyves, ’tis bushrangers. A free pardon to all 
who follow me and rescue them ! ’ Laws, sirs, ye might ha’ knocked me down with a 
feather. A free parding I hooray ! says I too myself — a free parding I’ll get, no mat- 
ter how ! And, gentlemen, with that I went.” 

“ Not to jail, Scruttles ? ” 

“ No, yer honor, but I knowed war they were, and I tuk my master straight there, 
and wc rcskied ’em, and got ’em safe back; and that it is ’ow, asking your parding, sir, 
as I cummed home.” 

“ That is, you knew the hiding-place of the bushrangers, and you betrayed them? ” 
“ Axing yer honor’s parding, I did not belay ’em. We shot ’em. As for Jem, I guv 
’im a taste of my ’atchet, and old dad, he were shot, but it were not me as put a hend 
to his career, because in coorse I couldn’t, not ’aviug a musket or pistol for to slioot 
with, and I wuldn’t adone it on no akounts ; but Jude she up wi’ a hax, and she had the 
hunfeelin ’art as to hit me over the nose the hawfullest blow, as I fell aweltering bin 
my blood. And when they was hall manakled and murdered, Sal’s master, picks hup 
my nose, and claps him hon agin ; and that is how it were, gentlemen, that this here 
nose of mine ain’t all here. For the matter of that, I never rightly knowed whether it 
were mine or Jem’s, — but onny how, Jem being dead, he hadn’t no call for a nose 
anny more ; but I am thinking it were Jem’s nose, for it were such a hawful hugly wun. 
But Sal’s master he did it hall for the best.” 

“ What was his name? ” 

“Axing your parding, sir, I never made so bold as to make the hinquiry. He were 
a gentleman for a husband ; for he were all day long a thinking of heverybody, and never 
tuk ’is heyes off his wife and babby.” 

“ Was she taken too by the bushrangers ? ” 

“ Ay, yer honor, if you please.” 

“ Yer honor, he were a fine man, and she were a butiful criter, and the babby were a 
Dutiful babby, and there were a deal of crying and blubberings all along of joy, yer 
honor, that they had rekivered theysels from they murderous bushers; for Jem he were 


THE HISTORY OF SCRUTTLES. 


63 


a desperate feller, and he said as ’ow he’d ’ave thousands of pounds for theyre ransom. 
But, in coorse, Jem could not kep his wurd to hisself in the matter — cos why, he were 
dead, and we reskied them. And there were a deal of joy far and near, for this here 
flne-’arted gentleman w’ere thowt greatly on, and so was his butiful lady, and the buti- 
ful babb3^” 

“ Well, go on; I suppose you were well rewarded? ” 

“ That I were, your honor. I were a hyro, like the Book of Wellington, and becos 
as that guv a deal of henvying and mallis, and sich awful sins to all they folks as his 
huuder the pertection of Parliament, why, it were thought as I had best go back to the 
old kuntry. Sal’s master, he sed as he had promised me a free parding, but the Parlia- 
ment were so unkimmon koind has to say they ’ood still be my pertecter, but, in conse- 
kenz of all this henvy and mallis, they sed as ’ow my percious life warn’t safe. Jude, 
’ung hall hover wi’ chains, swore she ’ud ’ave my life, if she swung for it. With that I 
went, gentlemen.” 

“ Home to England, with a free pardon? ” 

“ Axing yer parding, they wos too fond of me to let me free hoff. I were guv a 
ticket.” 

Here they all exchanged glances, indicative of very mixed feelings. King Crabshawe 
was evidently much discomposed, George was horrified, Spooner’s hair began visibly 
to rise, the squire alone, pleased to find his earliest opinion of Scruttles so remarkably 
verified, smiled complacently. 

“ And did your Sal come with you? ” 

“ Sal were a remarkable gurl, she were hall hover tender- ’artedness. She were that 
tender-’arted as she were quite foolish, and she culd not leave that butiful babby. She 
were its nuss, and when it were reskied and got home, Sal took the strikes shocking 
bad. She ’ollered and shreeked like anything. So, finding her dispozitions contrari- 
wise to me, her trup lovyer, for she said as hur would on no akounts fulfil her hengage- 
ment to me, being ’onerable hunder hall cirkumstances — wliy, gentlemen, with that I 
went.” 

“ And how came Sal’s master not to be able to get you a free pardon, after his 
promise ? ” 

“ Well, sir, that there cirkumstance is mighty kurous, and I make bould to think, yer 
honor, as Parliament hinterfered. Leastways, when I cummed home, I kep myself to 
myself, and came down to these yer parts. Sal’s master, he guv me a bit of munney fur 
to send oure babby out to Sal, fur he were an unkummon fine-’arted chap, were Sal’s 
master; but they’re a kurous set o’ folks, them folks as settle parish matters, and I 
W’ere afeered, gentlemen, has they ’ood nab me for the keep o’ that there babby, and so 
I hanna been a-nigh the place. And that makes me low, axing yer parding, gentlemen, 
fur I thinks o’ Sal a-crying for that there babby, which, in the matter of being a babby, 
his, I do suppose, summat nigh on to ten years hold. So with that, gentlemen, I didn’t 
went.” 

“ Then all I have got to say is, that that is about the only place you ought to have 
gone to. Let me know where this child is, and I will take care and see that it is sent 
out to its poor mother.” 

“ I thank ye from my ’art, yer honor, and I ’ood obleege ye, but I don’t rightly know 
^noflin about this here child — leastwise, goin’ on nigh upon two year ; for Sal’s master, 
he wrote to these here parish folks hisself, which were a straightforvrard ’onerable 
coorse to take, and they hanswered him right ofi*, ekally straightforward hand ’onerable, 
and they sent that there child of ourn hout to Sal, now this three year cum Michsel- 
mas.” 

“ Now take yerself off — I have heard enough of your story at present.” 

“I’umbly axes yer honor’s parding — I ’ave a deal more in my ’ed, unkommon 
curious and ” 

But Scruttles was summarily expelled, and the whist table was prepared. 

The squire is, however, in no mood for whist. It is positive pain to the dear old 
fellow to be brought face to face with such a specimen of low vice and utter worthless- 
ness as Scruttles. 

King Crab, not hashing so delicate a sense of the moral laws of our being, begins to 
make excuses for his “ excellent convict.” 

“ Poor beast ! ” he says, “ what-he must have gone through ! He seems to have been 
an idiot, or a fool, or something of that sort, to be drawn into all these scrapes.” 

“There did not seem much drawing— I think evil was inherent in his nature,” 
observes Spooner. 

“ I can’t think that — his grandfather and grandmother ” 

“ For God’s sake, don’t give him any more relations ! ” growled the squire. 

“ I mean those respectable old people who keep the shop — those that I mentioned to 
you living in our lane.” 

“ You said they were his father and mother.” 

“ I don’t think they are — she might be his sister ” 


64 


LORDS AND LADIES, 


“ Don’t Crabshawe. Why, you are as bad as the convict himself! ” 

“What do you mean sir?” exclaimed the captain, rising like Mount Etna, flaming 
with wrath, and smoking vehemently. 

“ Nothing ! he means nothing I ” Summers pleaded. “ Come, sit down to your whist. 
Don’t you see the squire is bothered? ” 

“ He has no right to say I am like a convict.” 

“ He did not say so ; he merely meant that in the matter of knowing how many rela- 
tions Scruttles had, or whether he had none at all, or if one stood in the place of all, or 
all acted the part of each, as occasion required, you seemed quite as much in the dark 
as himself.” 

“ And so I ought to be. Why am I supposed to know or care a flg for the fellow’s 
relations ? ” 

“ You volunteered the information ” 

“It is beyond my comprehension,” soliloquized the squire, utterly regardless of what 
was said, “ how he came to be what he was.” 

“Hah!” says Spooner, smitten with the metaphysical aspect of the squire’s remark. 
“ I am precisely of your opinion, squire. The man is a remarkable specimen of the 
power of matter over mind.” 

“ I don’t think the fellow has a mind. Suppose him capable of thinking, his thoughts 
ought to have driven him mad. Does any one know if anybody ever was born without 
a soul — I mean without a conscience, you know ? ” 

The squire’s important question remained unanswered. 

“ But still,” said the squire, gloomily, “ what an awful history it is, supposing even 
that the most of it is false. The man’s nature is thoroughly demoralized.” 

“ He was born, squire, I should say, with the intellectual bumps wholly deficient, the 
moral development extremely imperfect, so that ” remarked Spooner. 

“ I don’t believe in bumps.” , 

“ Perhaps not, my dear sir ; then take his physiognomy. According to Lavater, a 
man should be possessed of breadth between the eyes.” 

“ Which Scruttles has not. No baboon, no ape, no gorilla, ever had a pair of eyes 
more nearly placed together.” 

“ Come and play whist, my dear squire, and don’t bother your brains more about the 
man.” 

The squire obeyed, but anon he revoked. Instead of apologizing to his partner, the 
squire solemnly looked across the table and addressed him thus : — ' 

“ Suppose, sir, that you or I had been born in the same station of life as Scruttles?” 

“ I don’t suppose it at all ; pray go on, sir, we have lost the game.” 

The squire revoked a second time, and a second time he leaned across the table and 
said, — 

“ Suppose, now, that we had done the things that Scruttles has done.” 

“ I cannot suppose it, sir, ’tis impossible ; I am not capable of such baseness. We 
have again lost the game.” 

For the third time the squire revoked, his partner threw down his cards, and at- 
tempted to rise. 

“ Don’t go,” said the squire, “ I want to ask you a question. What have we done 
that the Almighty has been so merciful as not to make us like Scruttles ? ” 

“ I cannot answer your question, squire — as we none of us can, I fear; but I will do 
my best, while on the island, to give Scruttles some notion of the diflerence between 
good and evil,” answered Frank, the only one who seemed capable of replying to such 
a remark. 

“Do, Frank, and I will help you. Much as I loathe the fellow, I long for him to 
taste, for once in his life, that feeling which God has often vouchsafed me, the glow of 
doing a good action. I think it might open the man’s faculties.” 

“ He has some sense of it, for his involuntary admiration of Sal’s master, proves he 
felt the difference between good and bad.” 


“luff it is.” 


C5 


CHAPTER X. 

“luff it is.” 

{Extracts from the Ladies* Jowrnal.) 

BY CLABA. 

“Yesterday, a boat came from Exe (by order; to take us to cburcb. They seem a 
primitive set of people, for the boat was here by nine o’clock, and as there could be no 
infringement of the famous agreement, of course Ave could not suffer the sailors to land. 
We, therefore, made a virtue of necessity, which, after all,.was an agreeable necessity, 
giving us so many more hours of freedom, and set off for Exe about twenty minutes 
past nine o’clock. We left our palace in perfect order, but wholly unguarded, except 
by Runa and Mignon. Of course Susan came with us — arrayed in her bonnet of gor- 
geous bows. 

“ How is it that old-fashioned servants, appearing as perfect pictures of their kind in 
their working dress, yet ha^m no sort of taste as to their Sunday garments? 

“ Susan’s bonnet was very much too large for her, and consequently she had to give 
little jerks every now and then to keep it in its place. We were in fear for those two 
tottering bows every time she did so. 

“ Her shawl was meant to have a white ground, but it was so barred across 'in every 
direction with bright colors, in which twice as much yellow was used as any other, that 
at a distance it presented one gorg/mus spectacle of the brightest hues. It was se- 
curely fastened across the chest by a large cooking pin. 

‘‘ Her dress she was pleased to term a lustre. It Avas shiny, stiff, uncompromising, 
and the color a dingy attempt at purple shot Avith yelloAV. White cotton gloves, and 
her prayer-book folded in her pocket-handkerchief, completed her attire — all but a 
huge cotton umbrella, to the handle of Avhich Avas tied a pair of pattens. 

The tAvo sailors, no doubt struck by so much finery, Avere very attentive to Susan; 
she receiving their civilities Avith great dignity. She so far paid her due, as she called 
it, to the Sabbath, by always putting on her company manners with her best clothes. 
On week-days she has but scant courtesy for the male sex. 

“ ‘ Them men folks,’ she observed to my gossip and me one day, ‘ ao’«‘prwafes me, 
young ladies. They amost think as the wmrld Avere made a purpis for them; and if it 
Avere, the Almighty sune find out as they couldn’t do nothing for theysels, they Avere 
bound to ha\'e a Avoman to do for them.’ 

“ ‘ Were you ever married, Susan? ’ asked my gossip. 

“ ‘ Ploot ! miss ; do you think I wad make myself a maid-of-all-wark for the likes of 
them? The mistress, now, it’s a pleasure to do for, for if ever a lady knowed the differ 
between a good servant and a slattern, she be it. Oh ! she is knowledgable 1 ’ 

“ ‘ Then, Susan, had you ever a lover? ” 

“‘Be done ! miss ; a lover indeed ! a likely thing in my kitchen I Let me catch him 
a-coming here, and I’ll give him him my notions of sauce.’ 

“ And Susan, snatching up nothing at all that we could see, dashed out of the kitchen, 
very red in the face. 

“ But now we must go to church. We were in the boat, as I said, twenty minutes 
past nine. So short is the distance between us and Exe, that as Ave walked up the 
steep path to church, the clock in its primitive steeple was striking ten. 

“ ‘ A AA^hole hour to Avait ! What shall Ave do with ourselves ? ’ 

“ On reaching the church-yard, we were astonished not only at its size, but at the 
number and peculiarity of its tombstones. By degrees, as went reading the names on 
them, Ave Avere struck Avith painful astonishment at the almost universal record on each. 
Nearly all Avho lay there had been drowned. 

“ Involuntarily Ave turned our eyes on the beautiful calm ‘ monster’ that lay placidly 
basking under the brilliant rays of a June sun. 

“ On her bosom she Avas bearing with a dignified pride not only our island and the 
other islands, but the powerful two-funnelled Trinity yacht, the fishing smacks, and 
even the little tiny boat that brought us to church. As we looked down noAV on to the 
beach, it lay like a stray leaf on the Avater. 

“ Oh ! sea — so grand in quiet beauty, so lovely in majestic repose, so lovable in gentle 
power — Avhy art thou so remorseless ? Why rage and SAvell ? Why droAvn the people 
Avho have confided in your goodnest, uud strength ? What ails thee, oh ! thou sea, that 
thou drivest to and fro ? — that thou lashest thy sister’s shore ? — that thou destroyest 
tlie children she has trusted thy care ? — that thou fiUest the church-yards round thy 

9 


66 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


boundaries with the bodies of those thou hast drowned? An answer comes surging up 
from thy deepest caverns — ‘ Look int(^ the heart of man. What seest thou there ? Lv il 

and passion continually.’ „ , . ^ 

“ If the creatures with living souls rage and terrify their fellow-mortals with the vio- 
lence of their stormy moods, wherefore ask of that which hath no reason, which know- 
cth not good from bad, which obeycth the laws of nature, which listens to the whispers 
of the wind, and rises and falls as the west or the south wind blows, which hath never 
altered since God made it, beheld it, and said, ‘ It is good? ’ Wherefore ask of it the 
reason tliat men are drowned, and the church-yards filled with the bodies cast up from 
the Caverns of the deep? It is true. It were more reasonable to ask the drowned 
wherefore they carried on their business on great waters. 

“ Nevertheless, we walked among the grave-stones with sad and chastened hearts. 
There was so much of pitiful, loving human woe expressed in the records. Mrs. Spooner 
shed tears over a tomb that painted as touchingly as stone and graven words could, the 
distracting grief of a young husband who had borne his wife on one arm, while he bat- 
tled among the -waves with the other, only to find, when both gained the shore at last, 
that she was dead, past all recovery. 

“ My dear little gossip mourned over a tombstone thus inscribed : — 

S\CRF.D TO THE MEMORY OF 

HUGH SCUDAMORE, 

Aged* thirteen years, 

Midshipman on board II.M.S. ‘ Chanticleer,* 

Drowned the 25th November, 1824. 

* He was the only son of his mother, and she was a widow, 

“As forme, I, contemplated, with feelings that had much of pride and admiration 
mingled with my sorrow, a large monument, the work of one of our most distinguished 
sculptors. Underneath a stone canopy that was upheld by round pillars of polished 
granite, lay, as if on a wreck-strewn shore, the marble figure of a young girl. In the 
soft, pliancy of the form, in the helpless, hapless attitude, you saw at once before you 
cue representation of a drowned figure. The youthful round face was upturned, if 
she had appealed to Heaven with her last breath, and the immobility of death had im- 
mortalized the look. There was no despair in the face, no pain, no agony — there was 
simply devotion. Her long hair fell like a pall all over her ; one hand clasped a book 
to her breast, the other was placed down on her dress, grasping it in folds, as if to keep 
it in its place. One little foot was encased in a stocking, the other seemed like a thing 
of life — so fair, so round, so perfect, with a bit of sea- weed wound over the instep. 

“ Before I read the inscription on her tomb, I knew she was one immortalized on 
earth as well as in heaven. 


Sacred to the Memory op 
FRANCES CALDER, 

Who -was drowned on the night of the 15th of Oct., 18 — 

A night memorable all over England 
for 

A tempest of unusual and appalling violence. 

This Monument 
Is raised to her memory 

By the survivors of the Troop- Ship ‘ Adrian Capel,* 

Who owe their lives to her pious fortitude 
And heroic patience. 

“ The ship being driven by the furiousness of the wind on to the reef of rocks known 
'by the name of ‘ Wolves Reef,’ the captain announced that all hope of saving her was 
over, and urged the people to commend themselves to the mercy of God, as their lives 
were in his hands only. Disregarding his advice, with frightful yells, the crew, the 
troops, and many of the passengers rushed to the spirit room. They were met on the 
way, clothed all in white, in such garments as she could snatch, by Miss Calder. She 
stood before the door, and warned them back. Her look was so lofty and inspired, her 
youth and l)eauty so great, her courage so high, that all to a man obeyed her? 

“ With clear ringing voice she told the captain that she knew the coast well, and, if 
any strong man would venture with a rope round his waist to cross a surging sea 
between them and the next rock, he could so arrange a rope, that all might, with com- 
mon courage, reach it also, from whence to the shore there was a saTe causeway along 
the reef of rocks. A sailor, corroborating her words, volunteered to take the ropeT. 
He succeeded in crossing, and so fastened the rope, that five or six people passed safely 


“luff it is.” 67 

as many minutes. Two more ropes were now got in order, and the women and 
children were all safely landed. 

“During this time, lashed by her own request to the mast, this beautiful and inspired 
girl read out the prayers for those in danger. In the midst of the fury of the tempest, 
the war of the sea, the rending and crashing of the vessel, her clear voice was heard 
like a warning from heaven; it never wavered or stopped, until now, the women and 
children safe, she was urged to go next. 

“ ‘No,’ sheanswered‘ ‘let the fathers and sons go! ’ And they crossed, comforted 
and encouraged by the holy words that fell from her lips. It seemed as if the elements 
submitted in some degree to the power of her words. There remained but eight people 
on deck, when the captain cut the lashings that bound her to the mast, and prepared to 
take her over himself. 

“ It seemed as if the lull in the storm ceased with the sound of her voice and the spell 
of the beautiful prayers ; for just as she was stepping from the shelter by the mast, to 
trust herself, tied to the rope, into the boiling surge, a terrific blast swept over every 
crested wave, carrying sheets of water in its course, and fastening upon the vessel, sent 
it heaving over, breaking all the ropes, and drowning, by the violence of its power, 
every soul left, but one. That one, Adam Wriglrt by name, said he heard the sweet 
soul, in the midst of the boiling surge, commending herself to God. 

“ She was found the next morning in the position in which she has been sculptured. 

“ A saint on earth, God took her to be a saint in heaven, in the seventeenth year of 
her age. 

“ One hundred and forty people were saved, seven drowned. I have written this 
from memory. 

“ It is shorter, and more touching, graven round her tombstone. 

“ How small to me appeared the trivial vexations of every-day life compared with 
the hour of mortal fear and agony endured by this fair young child of seventeen 1 

“ I was deeply thinking on her fate, when little Bessie touched me, and said, ‘ Look ! ’ 

“ The bells were ringing — all too soon, we each thought — and it seemed as if the 
sound of them had awakened life in the great two-funnelled Trinity ship. 

“ We joined an old sailor who was looking at her through the telescope. 

“They tell me, madums,’ said he, ‘ as there be a fammous hadmiral aboord, and I 
were a looking to see if he were a coming to sarvis. Mostly, madums, when a man be 
fammous, he be a rightous sort on a man. If he be him as I heered tell on, it’s bound 
we be to give un a cheer.’ 

“ When w’e heard his name we agreed with the old sailor that he ought to be cheered. 
Our hearts quite beat with the anticipation of seeing so noted an admiral. 

“ ‘ There for sartain be a barge coming, but there’s nobbit two plain folks in it, and 
one be steering. A hadmiral have a power of gould on him, and a cocked hat, and a 
gran’ sword, haven’t he, mum? ’ asked the old sailor of Mrs. Joscelyn. 

“ ‘ I think he has when on duty, but I do not know if he would come to church in 
his uniform.’ 

“ There be a cutter, and a launch, and a jolly-boat, all as full as full cun be. And 
there be hossifers, and leftenants, and middies in heach. But nowhere does I see my 
Lord Igh Hadmiral.’ 

“ ‘ Oh ! do see him, Mr. Sailor,’ says little gossip, ‘ I do so long to see a hero! ’ 

“ ‘ He has a Victoria Cross, I believe,’ said Mrs. Josceljm. 

“ ‘ Has he, indeed? Goodness gracious me ! How I long to see him ! ’ 

“ ‘ I think we had better go into the church and take our places, for the sailors are 
landing,’ said Mrs. Joscelyn. , 

“ Much to my gossip’s disappointment, in he went. 

“ Her mind was too much occupied to notice the singularity of the church. It had a 
low roof, which outspanned into two broad aisles, not alike in length or width. These 
were supported by stone pillars of the most primitive workmanship, arranged without 
order, and seemingly place more from some fancied weakness in the roof than from 
architectural rules. The effect was, nevertheless, beautiful, for each pillar had its 
groined ribs, and, in every part of the church, the grouping of these rough huge pillars 
and their powerful arches had a wonderful effect. One could imagine the church had 
been built by the united aid of its own congregation, who, lacking skill, had brought 
strength and will to the work, and poured forth the powers of both towards building a 
house of God that should last for ages, 

“ The pews were by no means uniform. It appeared as if each member of the con- 
gregation had constructed his own seat after his own liking. This irregularity added 
to, rather than took away from, the solemnity of the building. It looked, indeed, a 
house of prayer — so. simply holy, so purely sacred. 

“ W< were sho vn into a long wide pew, which, with a forethought that might well 
< 5 e copied in othe* churches, was rudely emblazoned with the words, — 


‘The Strangers’ Pew.’ 


68 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


It had some pretence at ornament. Here and there a piece of primeval carving 
peeped out, and the door had an ancient and ornamented hasp. There were one or 
two small cushions placed at intervals on the seats, and a few ponderous, straw-coveied 
hassocks stood out pretentiously for use. It was certainly the best pew in the church. 
All the others were filling fast. Old weather-beaten men, accompanied, or leading by 
the hand little rosy-cheeked, smiling children- i^lderly grave women, invariably 
dressed in dark blue cloaks, black velvet bonnets, and their faces surrounded by snowy 
caps Pretty girls came tripping in, making a sort of bob-courtesy as they passed the 
‘ strangers’ pew,’ followed by slouching, heavy-footed youths, who stroked down then 
hair, and trudged up the church aisles, as if the more noise they made the better. 

“ And now we were conscious of the tramp of many feet. 

“ My dear little gossip, not even looking up, flushed crimson to her very temples. 

“ It was a beautiful sight to see the fine tars trooping in, such a grand body of men, 
doffing their hats as they crossed the threshold, and treading so lightly within the 
church, they altogether made less noise than one of the clumsy youths alone. By and 
by the church seemed full of blue jackets. Every pew had an open door for them, and 
in a while our door was unhasped by the clerk, and two officers in naval uniform shared 
the ‘ strangers’ pew ’ with us. , . , -r, 

“ I knew enough to'be aware that neither of these could be that famous admiral. But 
my gossip was looking through her eyelashes all over wonder. 

“ Suddenly, noiselessly, two gentlemen entered the church door and proceeded up 
the aisle. Plainly dressed, unpretentious, with grave looks, with a notable reverence 
they passed through the people. Even as they entered, our naval officers had risen 
from their seats, and already opened the door ; and they seemed to bow their heads in 
a sort of respect as these two simple, quiet, unassuming gentlemen entered. 

“Could either of these be the expected admiral? One was too young. And the 
other? A small man, wearing spectacles, an oval fiice, sunburnt, no — weather-beaten 
by the storms of forty winters and more ; for above, by the roots of his hair, his skin 
shone as white as a girl’s. 

“ How full of devotion is his manner ! How reverently and earnestly he pronounces 
the responses ! His little old prayer-book is almost as weather-beaten as himself; and 
each time that he has to listen and not use it, each time it goes into his pocket. 

“Perhaps that little prayer-book alwaj^s lives there? Perhaps he and it are such 
old friends they are never parted? Perhaps they have been in peril together? He 
looks as if he was glad to thank God. He is happy in spirit; he has no care, he is 
without trouble, his face is expressive of perfect serenity, heart and mind; all this is 
doubly expressed in his countenance as he thanks God. 

“ There does not seem to be anything famous about him; yet somehow I feel sure 
he is that famous admiral. His companion is a very fine fellow. Though only dressed 
ill a suit of plain gray tweed, he is a king to those two smartly dressed naval officers. 

“ He has large, gracious and benign eyes. They glance about gently and calmly. 
They have rested for a moment on my poor little gossip, who, though never looking 
up, is conscious of the gaze, and blushes more violently than ever. Compassionately 
he withholds the lordly glance, and she pales as quickly as she flushed. 

“I catch a look; he half smiles as I encounter it unflinching. In truth, I wonder at 
the beauty of his eyes, their clearness, their benignity, their truth. I think to myself, 
— ‘ So looked Frances Calder, when alive.’ 

“But hold! am I not ashamed to think so much of these strangers, so little of my 
prayers ? We are about to sing a hymn. The clerk has presented ‘ the strangers’ pew,’ 
not often so full, with some hymn-books. He who I think is the great admiral hands 
one to Mrs. Joscelyn, saying almost aloud, — 

“ ‘ I don’t sing — I listen,’ and refuses to use a book. 

“ He who I think is a hero, or will be one, for he is still young, turns to my little 
gossip, and seems to command her, by some mj^sterious unspoken power, to sing out 
of the same book as he does. And all the time he sings, he looks down upon the 
words, <lown upon the tiny little thumb opposite to his own, down upon those wonder- 
ful eyelashes of hers, as if expecting them to rise and show the eyes beneath. But 
they never rise. They shade invariably a cheek that becomes red and pale with aston- 
ishing rapidity. In the middle of the hymn, it strikes me, still irreverent, that I havt- 
never even looked into the faces of the two officers ; I don’t seem to care to look aT 
them. 

“ Now I will attend to my prayers. 

“ I do so with some little trouble. I catch myself listening to him whom I think to 
be the famous admiral, saying his prayers. He repeats them with all his heart. He 
shuts his little weather-beaten prayer-book, gives it a squeeze, says, — ‘ We beseech 
Thee to hear us, Good Lord,’ out of his very soul ; opens it again, and goes on prop- 
erly. That pray r;r. ‘We beseech Thee to hear us. Good Lord,’ was for the Queen. 
Again the little prayer-oook is shut, again has a little squeeze ; again I hear the word« 
out of the very depths of his soul. This time it is for those in peril, in danger, ■ 


‘"LUFF IT IS.” GC’ 

tribulation. ‘When we come to the thanksgiving, the little prayer-book goes to its 
home in his pocket ; he wants both his hands to clasp together, as we do when we arc 
little children. This (for I know he is) famous admiral clasps his hands together, and 
ijopeats the thanksgiving prayer with the pure faith and fervor of an innocent child. 
Thus I think he hath been ‘ in peril oft,’ and God hath delivered him. 

“ Now we have another hymn, and lie with the great calm eyes has again ordered my 
gossip, without word or sign, to sing out of the same book with him. And she is ner- 
vously anxious to obey. They are both ready long before any one else ! 

“ And now he that must be the admiral for the first time looks round. 

“ He looks at my gossip — he takes off his spectacles, wipes them, puts them on 
again, and looks once more. Then he looks up at his friend, who is a good deal the 
tallest. A^ sort of pleasant flicker of a smile comes on to his face as he perceives that 
his friend is intently gazing at my gossip, who, somewhat more calm and used to hei’ 
peculiar situation, is singing most piously and heartily. Indeed, so much so, that she 
has for a moment forgotten the great lordly creature holding half her hymn-book, and 
looks up. 

“ Their eyes meet for the first time. Those large, unwavering, gracious eyes look 
down into a pair of orbs that have the startled but trustful look of the fawn’s. He 
sees them only for a moment, as the eyelashes are required .'once more to shade the 
blushing cheek. 

“ Somehow my gossip stops singing; she lets her neighbor hold the book by himself 
“-she fusses in her pocket for her handkerchief. She thinks the hymn is finished, and 
sits down, but she has to rise again, abashed and trembling. These old sailors like to 
hear their cracked droning voices, and they quaver through every verse, in evident de- 
light at their own performance, always giving the last verse twice over, that we may bo 
certain not to be defrauded of our due share of ‘ praise.’ 

“ The coming of the sermon surprises me — I have been so inattentive. Nothing 
and no one shall disturb me more. I will remember I am at church. I will not care 
for famous admirals, for their handsome friends, for my little gossip’s girlish pretti- 
nesses. 

“ So, in two minutes, I see the admiral again looking at her; he and his friend ex- 
change a glance which tells me as plain as words they are both admiring her. She 
looks very pretty — her fresh rosy lips just a little opened, she is listening so atten- 
tively to the sermon, and the long e3^elashes are again shading the check. She is quite a 
little rose-bud of a girl, and the sun seems to think he will look at her also, for he has sent 
a ray of light just across her sunny hair and brow. Now I will listen to the sermon.. 
So I do for five minutes. Then I am astonished — perhaps a little shocked — to see 
he whom I think the famous admiral nodding. Certainly his eyes are closed — he is 
dozing. 

“ Taking advantage of this state of things, the young lieutenant, in his fine uniform, 
draws himself up, looks manly, and gazes upon the sleeping admiral with bold and 
indulgent eyes. The sleeping admiral nods a little too much, and wakes up with the 
efibrt — the lieutenant sinks b^ack into his corner, and shrinks into as small a space as 
he can. 

“ But I will attend to the sermon. 

“ It begins to occur to me that the sermon is a bad one — not worth listening to. 
Moreover, the delivery of it is unpleasant — all the s’s are pronounced as z’s — the 
preacher is saying now, speaking of another than himself, — “ The manner is not to be 
regarded if the matter be good.’ 

“ ‘ I agree not with you, oh ! preacher; there is that in thy manner which offendeth 
me, and there is nothing in the matter that interesteth me. Let me be excused attend- 
ing to thee, and let me read a lesson in the human heart, that seems opening to my 
vision. I would analyze the nature of which God makes our heroes. I would define 
the springs from which noble thoughts come ; I would trace to their source the emana- 
tions of liigh-mindedness, of self-abnegation, of ’ 

“ ‘ Now, to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost.’ 

“ Shame ! shame to me ! Even the end of the sermon has surprised me. What vows 
have I paid the Lord in His house? What offerings of the heart have I laid on His 
altar? From beginning to end ‘ I have done that which I ought not to have done, and 
left undone what I ought to Jiave done.’ 

“ Let me go to the monument of the devoted and heroic Frances Calder, and take a 
lesson from' the beautiful upturned face— from the wave-washed form, graceful and 
lovel}^ even in the stony grasp of death.” 

The beautiful characters of this writing ceased here, and an impulsive sort of school- 
girl’s pen takes its place. Many of the words are scored under, but latterly the writing 
becomes more firm, the mind is evidently much too fiill to remember the scoring. 

“ Last night how we grumbled at that great cannibal of a steamer coming and making 
so great a commotion. Mrs. Spooner thought it would bump against our island and 
knock it over. Fortunately, as Clara explained to her, under the sea our islands aro 


70 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


all one, tliG mounttiinous PvJrts rising up and making islands of themselves. Captain 
Crabshawe, it is to be hoped, will not licar this. It would grieve him to think he was 
still on the same continent as a petticoat, though the sea is so good as to separate us. 

“When the sailors cam':' at nine o’clock to take us to Exc church, they told us that 
this ‘ cannibal,’ as I called it, was one of the powerful screw vessels that go about the 
coast of England, visiting the light-houses and taking them stores. 

“ It had come into the bay to see after the light-house at Eibble, which was in need 
of repair, and would probrbly stay two or three days. So we must look upon her as a 
friend, not a cannibal. 

“ For my part, now that we were going to leave our island for the first time since we 
came here, I felt a little sad. 

“ But NN'e had been so peaceful and happy all the wmek, and I did not like any change, 
I thou’ght. I had read of the weavy pilgrim suddenly finding an oasis in the desert, 
where he bathed his blistered feet in a cool fountain, and, sitting under a s aady fig tree, 
had a mossy bank for a pillow, and without moving gathered as many figs as he could 
eat. 

“ Now, though I am n :)t a weary pilgrim, and, indeed, never feel weary at all, yet it is 
very pleasant to be in this quiet, still place, leading such happy, calm lives — it is as if 
W’e had come to an oasis in our journey of life. 

“ When we got into the church-yard, how sad it was to read the tombstones ! Almost 
everybody had been drowned. I did not feel so much for the poor drowned people as 
for those wdio put up the tombstones, for there were such doleful records of tlieir grief. 
I cried a great deal, and could not help thinking how it came to pass that so many peo- 
ple should have lost all they loved best, and what they loved most. And here svas I, a 
little insignificant thing, wdio did not even know what sorrow was. How good God had 
been to me ! I would say my pra3’ers very fervently in this church, surrounded by the 
graves of all the droivnicd, for w’hat had I done to be so much more blessed than they? 

“ While I was thus thinking, an old fisherman came most respectfully up and said, 

‘ There w'as a famous admiral on board the screw yacht, and that we should see him, 
for he w'as coming to church.’ 

“ Oh ! how glad I was ! I had never seen anything or anybody famous in my life. 

“ Clara agrees with me that there is something about a sailor that makes every Eng- 
lishwoman’s heart rejoice. Even all these rough fishermen seem heroes. And I dare 
say they have done many heroic acts, battled with waves and storms, and saved lives. 

“ ‘ They that go down to the sea in ships,’ see and do wonderful things. They feel 
themselves so much in the power of the Almighty, that they rely like children on His 
help, and thus do and dare deeds that common mortals shrink from. 

“ And yet they seem to know when one among their number deserves true praise, for 
they were all so eager to tell my aunt about the admiral now coming in his barge to 
their church, and were so delighted when they discovered she knew him well by report. 

“ ‘ I believe there is no country where he has not been,’ said my aunt, ‘ and every- 
where he has left a good name behind him.’ 

“ ‘ Aj, ma’am, thou’st in the right there. Ben Spurling has hed the luck to sail three 
times wi’ un. Ane time in those lonesome, wearisome Arctic seas, and anither at the 
vary t’other end of the warld, where Ben says as they corned to a land made oop of 
ashes and nought else ; and, lastljq he wor wi’ un at the war, and if ever there wor a 
place where summat hot were gangin’ on, his cappen (he wor a cappeii then) put his 
ship. Monny a gran’ hadmiral hae been here times^n times, but it’s most part hevery 
thing gladsome, as Ben Spurling’s fine cappen, now a famous hadmiral, be come. He be 
joost for all the world like a friend noo.’ 

“ ‘ Gossip,’ whispered my gossip to' me, ‘ think of our having such an adventure, and 
all owing to Captain Crabshawe, for if he had not made his ill-natured remark about 
our desire to show ofi* our bonnets, &c., &c., to the Rampton world, we should not have 
come to Exe church.’ 

‘“Do you know, Clara, I could almost love him for it. Think of our not only seeing 
an admiral, but an admirable admiral.’ 

“ ‘And still more this wonderful church-yard with all its solemn records.’ 

“ ‘Yes, indeed — oh! Clara, it makes me long to be good.’ 

“And then I could say no more. I felt rising in my heart strange and inexplicable 
thoughts, that gave me very solemn feelings. I was glad when my aunt proposed that 
we should go into church. I longed to kneel down and pray. I could not help think- 
ing of aU the drowned people, and the mourning relatives that had so often come down 
to this primitive, strange old church. What prayers must have been uttered here ! 
Such cries to God for comfort, such petitions for resignation, such beseechiugs for a 
meeting, never to part more ! This church, so rudely fashioned, so unadorned, so 
simple, yet grand, seemed to me sanctified by real pra\"ers that had gone straight from 
the heart to the throne of God. 

“ So would I pray this very day, a little heedless, thoughtless creature usually; but 


71 


“ LUFF IT IS.” 

to-day, this hour, a thinking, humble, supplicating soul, who was never more to lose 
the impression of this solemn time. 

“Some people came into the same pew with us, but I did not like to disturb my 
thoughts by looking at them. 

“We were singing that beautiful hymn, ‘Thy will be done;’ and as we did so, I 
recalled what little Bessie had told us regarding the Lord’s Prayer : 

“ ‘ We must always make a pause between each petition, that we may think of what 
we are saying, for our old nurse used to tell my brothers and me that an evil spirit is 
always watching to distract our thoughts, which is the reason so many people say ^ he 
Lord’s Prayer heedlessly.’ 

“ Mrs. Spooner thinks the real reason is that we say it so often our tongues run H off 
too glibly for us to pause ; but I think the old nurse is right — I find there is a sort of 
spell against my saying it wholly undistracted, short as it is. 

“ As I thought this, I looked up and saw a face, a pair of eyes looking into mine, that 
reminded me rather of a good spirit than a bad. 

“ They were large, kindly, gentle eyes. I felt glad we were singing out of the same 
book, saying the same prayers. God was so good as to fill my heart with pure and 
happy thoughts. I felt that if I was told I must die, that death was coming for me, that 
I should go, even as suddenly as the poor drowned people had been summoned away, 
that it would not make me sorrowful. I should be content to sigh out my soul in the 
presence of the Almighty. But now the service was over; we were to leave this holy, 
sacred church. 

“My aunt had settled that we should wait at Exe for afternoon sendee, and I was 
glad to think that we might spend some more time, and learn some more lessons from 
the tombstone. But such a thing happened ! Of course I did not think the famous 
admiral was there — I saw no one that could be taken for him. 

“ But suddenly, standing close by me, I saw the gentleman who sang out of the* same 
book with me in church. I suppose he felt as I did, that this act had introduced us to 
each other, for he said, — 

“ ‘The admiral begs me to ask if any of your party would like to see his vessel? 
She is quite new, and supposed to be a perfect specimen of hrr class. He is off again 
to-morrow.’ 

“ And so ho really was theiv». Absolutely this admirable admiral was standing close 
by — a little dark unpretentious man, talking to Ben Spurlmg’s old father, and shaking 
him by the hand. 

“ ‘ Gossip, you look disappointed,’ whispered Clara to me. ‘ I have noticed that al- 
most all sailors arc little insignificant-looking men.’ 

“ ‘ Nay,’ whispered I back again, ‘ look at his friend.’ 

“ ‘ He is not a sailor,’ said she. 

“‘He is.’ 

“ ‘ I swear it, gossip.’ 

“ ‘ Oh ! don’t, Clara — I love sailors so.* 

“ ‘ He is a soldier.’ 

“ While we thus quarrelled, my aunt was being introduced to the admiral, to whom 
she tendered her thanks for his obliging offer. Said she to us afterwards, in order to 
account for a slight hesitation on her part, — 

“ ‘ I was in fear at first that to accept it would be an infringement of our challenge, 
but I think there was no article against our visiting a ship ; and even if there had been, 
we should not have been worthy of our name as Englishwomen if we would not have 
forfeited our chance for the still greater honor of visiting an admiral.’ 

“ We all echoed this heroic speech of my aunt’s, especially now that the visit was 
over. 

“ The admiral took us in his own barge, and two officers, in fine naval uniforms, 
went ahead of us to prepare what the admiral called a ‘gangway,’ and to tell his steward 
that ladies were coming to luncheon. And it was the most delightful thing possible to 
feel ourselves so carefully regarded, and put into a chair, with the honored flag of Old 
England wrapped round us, and hoisted up on deck as if we were the most precious and 
valuable things in the world. 

“ ‘ I feel,’ whispered I to Clara, ‘just as if I was the Queen. How do you feel? ” 

“ ‘ I am in the predicament of knowing that we are highly honored and flattered by 
all this attention ; at the same time, I am called upon to act as if I was the condescend- 
ing party.’ 

“‘Just so; one would almost believe by their manner that this was the proudest 
moment of their lives. I wish all men were sailors.’ 

“ ‘ Your singing Mend is a soldier.’ 

“‘lam sure he is not.’ 

“ But, oh ! dear me — after all, she was right. 

“ As we were seated at luncheon, my aunt, having made some remark about the ad- 
miral’s services, ‘ of which she could not but be aware, as every Englishwoman ought, 


72 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


says slie (my aunt is so clever at saying just tlie nicest things in the world in just 
the nicest way), then answered the admiral, — 

“ ‘ llah! I have not introduced you to a much greater hero — let me make my friend 
Lionel known to 3mu as Colonel Erne.’ 

“ Goodness gracious ! — to think of us poor female mortals, who were not fit company 
for Captain Crabshawe, sitting with and talking to such heroes.' And I had been sing- 
ing out of the same book with him, and perhaps all the time he had his Victoria Cross 
in his waistcoat pocket. 

“ And he saw Clara nod and smile at me, and he asked me why she did so, and I was 
obliged to tell, and the admiral laughed heartily ; and I really did not know whether it 
would not be better for me to run away and jump overboard, only the admiral was just 
like a school-boy, and I began to be not the least afraid of him. 

“ All this time I must not forget to say that we left Susan, at her own request, be- 
hind, under the care of the old avaricious herring man, who, in his Sunday clothes, 
seemed quite a different sort of person — clean, sensible, and amiable. 

“ Susan cared nothing for the honor of the invitation made by the admiral himself. 

“ ‘ I hae overmuch o’ men’s coompany at onny time. Miss Kate, when there’s onny 
one,’ said she ; ‘ and fur to go fur to find mysel’ wi’ nout else, is what I niver will do 
for onnybody.’ 

“The ship was splendid, and we saw lots of curiosities, and the admiral told us long 
stories of the Arctic regions, which he had visited twice — once as a boy ; he would 
not talk of his own exploits in the Black Sea or anywhere, but all his anecdotes were 
of other people. 

“ Of course it came out that we were staying at Lufi*, because he asked how it hap- 
pened that there were lights in the house hitherto uninhabited. 

“ After a while, my aunt told him why we were there, and all about the challenge. 
Upon which the admiral went from one fit of laughing into another, saying between 


each, — 

“ ‘ You will win — of course you will win ! Not a doubt — is there, Lionel ? ” 

“ Lionel was that gentleman who was so good as to sing out of the same book with 
me. But he did not laugh, he only said, — 

“ ‘ Is it possible that there are creatures, calling themselves men, who voluntarily 
absent themselves from the society of ladies ? ” 

“ I only wish Captain Crabshawe had seen him as he said these words. Eor my part, 
I think, if he has an opportunity, he will be, some of these days, as great a hero as 
Nelson. 

“ ‘ Ha! ha! they have not been to sea, have they, Lionel? They would know better 
if they had.’ 

“And the admiral laughed more than ever. 

“ Now, what do you think the admiral said? I would not repeat it, but perhaps an 
admiral may never say the same thing of me again. And I could not help seeing that 
he meant me, because my aunt was the only one near, and she is not a girl. Clara was 
down in the cabin with Bessie, and Mrs. Spooner was looking at the compass far 
away. But after all, I won’t say what it was, it does not become a person, lately in the 
company of such heroes, to be guilty of vanity ; though, indeed, it is not vanity.” 

Mrs. Joscelyn here begins to write, — 

“ But I shall tell — I heard it. The admiral said, in what was meant for a whispeK - 
“ ‘ That is an uncommonly pretty girl.’ 

“ And his friend answered, — 

“ ‘ I never saw a prettier.’ 

“ And indeed my pretty Kate did look wonderfully bewitching, she had such a color 
on her cheeks, and such a glow in her eyes, that I did not wonder they admired her. 
As for the two officers in uniform, they devoured her by looks. 

“ Clara whispered to me that she was rather disappointed in the admiral, as regarded 
his being a hero. He was too young, too merry, too boyish. She could hot bring her- 
self to think that he had ever been in danger, much less faced it, as a boy, with such 
resolute courage, in the dreary Arctic seas. But before very long she changed her 
opinion. ® 

whom he seemed to take a vast fancy, and to whom he chattered 
as If he was of her own age (which makes me remark that your really great man as- 
similates himself to the nature of a child with far greater ease than one who is famous 
for nothing), little Bessie said, — 

“ ‘ Sir admiral, did you ever feel frightened when you were all alone in the Arctic 
seas, with nothing but ice and snow — desolation and horror all around? ” 

“ He had listened to her with a smile, then he became grave ; he took off his specta- 
cles, and, looking at her with gentle serious eyes, answered, — 

“ ‘ My dear, God was there.’ 

“ And this is the secret of his greatness ! He is relio-ious - 
only one fear, namgly, that he may not love Him enough. 


- he loves God ; he has 


“luff it is.” 73 

“ ‘ All ! ’ whispered Clara once more to me, * how I have misjudged him ! I can now 
understand how a true hero is generally a good man ! ’ 

“I never saw any one so delighted as the admiral was at the history of our chal- 
lenge. He flatters us by saying we must win. When I say flatters, I consider it so 
from him. For ray part, I have already announced that we must win. Kot from any 
superior merit in us, not because we have more patience, more endurance, and more 
pluck, but because we sacrifice less. Very little makes a woman happy who is reason- 
able ■; and time goes quickly with them, even if their employments are a little frivolcus. 
J3ut with men ; alas ! my poor squire, I feel for you. For your sake I begin to wish I 
had not cared about my summer curtains,! 

“ But let me describe the beautiful screw yacht ; that is, give up all idea of describing 
her, and merely express the wonder and delight with which we surveyed and examined 
her. For my part, when I considered the beauty of her construction, and the skill with 
which she was put together, when I saw her order and completeness, the majesty of 
her shape in the water, and the grace and ease with which she floated, I was impressed 
with both woncter and awe. 

“ If God permitted the creature he had made out of the dust to create for himself, by 
the comprehensiveness of his own wit, and the force '^f his own energy, a magnificent 
floating life-like thing as this ship ; made her obey him with merely a turn of the hand, 
trusted himself in her, as if she was his mother, in the fiercest storm, in the wildest 
tempest ; loving her as his home on earth, his safest, dearest, happiest abiding-place ; 
what miglit we not expect in another and a better world? What is man, or the son of 
man, that God should so regard him? 

“ Such thoughts were very fitting for this holy day. They filled my heart as we were 
being rowed back to attend the afternoon service at Exe. The two gentlemen came 
with us, and together we walked among the tombstones ; being still rather early for 
the service. 

“ Being alone with Arabella for a few moments, I said, — 

“ ‘If you have no objection, I have not, to forfeit our chance of winning the chal- 
lenge. To have the honor of entertaining an Admiral, all other things should be for- 
gotten ; and so, if you do not object, we will ask them to Luff to take a cup of tea.’ 

“ ‘ Very far from it ; I agree with j’^ou that no one for a moment ever calculated upon 
this extraordinary circumstance. It would be quite wicked of us to fail in giving him 
due honors ! ’ 

“ ‘ Of course i^would not do for us, only a company of ladies, to ask them to dinner, 
but merely a visit of half an hour, and the offer of a cup of tea, I think, we ought to 
propose ’ 

“ ‘ Pray do it, and if the gentlemen are affronted, why, let them be affronted, that’s 
all I say ! ’ 

“ ‘ I do not suppose they will be affronted, because, like us, they must feel a national 
pride in seeing men so worthily renowned, and much more in holding intercourse with 
them ; but they will immediately settle at once that we have lost the challenge.’ 

“‘Let them do so, the cause demands it; and. perhaps, after all, it will be a good 
thing, and we may get away all the sooner.’ 

“ What I tired I — tired already, Arabella? ’ 

“ ‘ No, not exactly tired — but in truth, I do miss Augustus. Though you are all very 
kind, and I ought to be happy, yet somehow I feel the want of him every minute, to 
consult with and talk to.’ 

“ ‘ My dear, I am heartily glad to hear you say so. I hope, before we leave Luff, I 
shall see you quite thin, through pining for him.’ 

“ ‘ Oh ! no, I am not so silly as that. No, I thank you; Augustus left me of his own 
accord — Augustus must ask, and very humbly, too, to be restored to my favor.’ 

“ ‘ Ah ! well, settle it your own way. Let us go and take our places.’ 

“ When service was over, and we were preparing to return to our island home, I 
asked the Admiral and his friend to accompany us and partake of some tea. 

“ ‘ We shall certainly do ourselves the honor of taking you safely home, but, as for 
landing — does not that peril the winning of the challenge? We would die for want 
of a drop of tea sooner than be the cause of such a catastrophe.’ 

“ ‘ Praj do not think of the challenge, but rather of the honor that you will do us.’ 

“ ‘ By no means. I know enough ol the female sex to be aware that they ardently 
embrace every opportunity of self-sacrifice. It becomes our duty as men to make the 
sacrifice for them. Lionel, I give up that delicious, desirable cup of tea.’ 

“ ‘ So do I. A cup of poison would be preferable under the circumstances.’ 

“ ‘ We appreciate such noble conduct, all the more from feeling ourselves in a man- 
ner somewhat in disgrace with your sex. Nevertheless, I am not sure if we have not 
already forfeited our claim to win. I fear we ought not to have gone on board the 
yacht.’ 

“ ‘ You think they will cavil about that, do you, madam? 

“ ‘ Alas ! that I must allow it of our lords and masters now at Puff, I do.’ 

10 


74 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“ ‘ Then we will put them into the same predicament. After we have landed the 
ladies, Lionel, we will proceed to Pufl\ If you and I cannot manage to beguile the 
gentlemen to dine with us on board the yacht, \vhy, we don’t deserve to be in her Maj- 
esty’s service ! ’ ^ . ... 

“ ‘ We don’t. I will go to the Horse Guards and resign my commission. 

“ ‘ Oh ! how nice ! ’ exclaimed Kate ; ‘ and you won’t say anything about us ? ’ 

“ ‘ No, not until dinner is over, and they are about to go back.’ 

“ ‘ Oh ! capital ! Then they can say nothing against us.’ 

“ ‘ Now, I should like a reward, Bessie.’ 

“ ‘ Dear Sir Admiral, if I can do it, it is done.’ 

“ ‘ Well, it is this — I am very fond of cream, and, in foregoing your mother’s prof- 
fered cup of tea, I lose a great treat ; if I send a boat here in the morning early, do you 
think you can spare me a little cream for my breakfast? ’ 

“ ‘ Dear Sir Admiral, you shall have a jugful, and some fresh butter made yesterday 
by Clara and Kate.’ 

“ ‘ Ha.’ said the colonel, ‘ I dote on fresh butter.’ 

“ Our ‘gushing’ feminine hearts being now relieved on the score of hospitality, we 
were enabled to take a very friendly farewell. They of course, did not land, and, after 
watching us arrive at our iklace in safety, they departed for Puff. 

“ We all sat down in a state of chatteration and excitement that was very unbecom- 
ing a Sabbath evening. Each one had something more wonderful to tell than the 
other. 

“ ‘ He told me such stories of that darling admiral,’ said Kate; ‘I happened to say 
how nice I thought him. “ Nice,” he exclaimed, “ my dear Miss Daintree, there is not 
a hair of his head that is not nicer and better than anything you ever met with. You 
see how his sailors adore him ; you heard his character before you saw him ; you can 
perceive how I dote on everything he says and does, because he is so simple, so noble, 
so purely good. But if you want to know what he really is, go to his own home.” ’ 

“ ‘ But may one ask, without offence,’ interrupted Clara, ‘ who is the “ he ” that con- 
fided so much to my gossip ? ’ 

“ ‘ That “ he” also confided in me,’ said Mrs. Joscelyn, pitying the confusion of the 
little gossip. ‘ In the eyes of the world the admiral is a hero — a hero by never-ceasing 
vigilant fulfilling of duty — a hero by patience, fortitude, and perseverance — but, to his 
family he is a domestic hero. He told me, it is a matter of perfect indifference to his 
wife whether the sun shines or not — she is provided at home with perpetual sunshine. 
And as for his sons and daughters, they lose their best-beloved, chiefest playmate when 
he is not there.’ 

“ ‘ I could not fancy him a hero at first,’ said Clara, ‘ he was so boyishly full of fun; 
but how wonderfully quick he was in seeing that we should compromise our chance of 
winning the challenge if they accepted our offer of a cup of tea! And^how sagacious 
finding so capital a remedy, if our visit to the yacht should chance to be thrown at our 
poor heads. These little traits show that, under all his gayety and light-heartedness, 
t he never forgets what it is most right to do Then the colonel — eh ! gossip ? ’ 

“ ‘ Why me? ’ answers the little gossip, blushing in a most violent manner. 

“ ‘ You appeared to like singing out of the same hymn-book with him as much in the 
afternoon as the morning.’ 

“ ‘ It would have been rude to refuse.’ 

“ ‘ But this afternoon we had a supply of hymn-books sufficient for all of us.’ 

“ The little gossip turned away. 

“ ‘I think he is the most wonderfully handsome man I ever saw. His eyes have a 
look something like the look of Augustus in former days.’ 

“ ‘Ahl’ she murmured, ‘dear Augustus — happy admiral, he was going where Au- 
gustus is. Why, oh I why did I not send a message about his flannel waistcoats ? ’ 

“ ‘ The yacht leaves to-morrow at noon,’ said Clara ; ‘ she will have lauded her stores. 
Colonel Erne says that is the only thing he docs not like in the admiral, he is always in 
such a hurry. “ Now,” continued he, “ I should like to stay here until the challenge is 
over ; and the admiral could have his fresh cream every morning, apd I could come and 
fetch it. But you’ll see he won’t perceive what a comfortable state of things that would 
be. He will be off, I know, spite of all my entreaties.” ’ 

“ ‘ Where will he go to from here ? ’ I asked. 

“ ‘ “ He is going all round the coast ; and he will be passing back this way in about a 
fortnight. Ha! I have an idea. Yes, my fine admiral! you may be as peremptory as 
you please, but I am not on duty — I can do as I like.” ’ 

“ ‘ I asked him what he meant; and he answered, that when the screw yacht went 
out on her errands, the person in command — admiral or captain — was allowed to take 
friends ; and he. Colonel Erne, happened this time to be the friend, and was not per- 
emptorily tied to the yacht, but by the links of friendship.’ 

“ ‘ “ I was very nearly not coming; and only think what I should have lost! ” he 
added; looking at you, gossip.’ 


PUFF ! PUFF I 


75 


“ ‘ Why me ? ’ asks gossip, quite confused. 

“ ‘ He thought yomsuch a pretty girl ! ’ 

“ ‘ Is it not comfortable to be considered such superior beings, after being so snul^bed! 
I feel quite a disposition to be as good again as I really am, in order to do justice to the 
high opinion our two new friends seem to entertain of our sex.’ 

“‘That Vvould be called vanity by some people; and, after all, it is nothing but a 
most praiseworthy desire to be worthy of the commendation.’ 

“ ‘ But there is a species of empty flattery that men sometimes adopt towards women, 
which is truly nauseating,’ said our haughty, imperious Clara ; ‘ having been disgusted 
with that, what balm it is to be duly appreciated ! To hear it said that, because we are 
women, we are good and true, to be beloved. Our very sex makes us angels in the 
heart of a good man; and he would feel more keenly than ourselves any blot that marred 
what he considered so perfect. He who treats a woman with courtl}’" deference, yet 
with a proper sense of his own dignifled position towards her, is worthy to be loved, as 
mortals can love.’ 

“ ‘ How earnest you are, Clara I ’ half laughed Mrs. Spooner. 

“ ‘ I feel very deeply on the subject, though I cannot say I have had much experience ; 
still, I know enough to be sure that, if men treated women properly, there would be 
very few bad ones in the world.’ 

“ ‘ That is an assertion I am hardly prepared to carry out, Clara, with my much longer 
experience.’ 

“ ‘ Oh ! yes, Mrs. Joscelyn, you are — give a woman credit for being perfect, and she 
will do her best not to forfeit it. Women are so large and magnanimous in their dis- 
positions. They will give way, give up, on the mere supposition that by so doing they 
can please some one they love.’ 

“ ‘ And men? ’ 

“ ‘Certainly not. They reason over what is required of them to do — they argue 
on it ; they destroy the flrst blush of the beauty of the sacriflce, and eventually it is not 
worth the having when it is unwillingly extracted.’ 

“ ‘ Oh ! mamma,’ said Bessie, running in, ‘ Susan is in quite a pet because no one will 
help her to cook the dinner.’ 

“ ‘ Good lack, and the cloth not laid either ! Who could suppose that, locked up in the 
island of Luflf, we should have met with adventures that made us forget our usual du- 
ties, and that on Sunday evening, too ! ’ 

“ ‘ It has certainly been a most exciting day.’ 

“ ‘ What a lucky thing we came to Lufi’! — it would not have happened otherwise.’ 

“ ‘ To be sure not — do, some one, write that down in the journal. It will be an ex- 
cellent thing for our lords to know, when the challenge is over, that we are indebted 
to them for spending a Sunday of most absorbing interest — one we are never likely to 
forget for many reasons, the chief of which is, the seeing, speaking to, and being on 
such familiar terms with a famous admiral.’ 

“ ‘ And I feel as if I had only to recollect that church-yard, to be humbly grateful for 
my happy life.’ 

“ ‘ And then that grand old primitive church — truly a house of prayer ! ’ 

“ With these feelings, no wonder that this, our first Sunday at Luff, ended in feelings 
of solemn happiness and peace.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

PUFF ! FUFF I 

The squire rose in the morning still so full of Scruttles and his story, that all shame 
for those abominable revokes was utterly gone. Indeed, it may be said with truth he 
never felt any for them. But there was a shame, an honest shame, swelling the heart 
of our worthy squire. It was the shame that a good man feels when he is brought face 
to face with a depraved nature. 

It being Sunday morning, the squire dressed as if he was going to church, though 
there was no possibility of doing so. The three other gentlemen paid the same respect 
to the day, but Captain Crabshawe presented himself in the suit of a decayed game- 
keeper. It was true he had not burdened himself with many garments, and if, as ap- 
pearances seemed to warrant, he had brought but two suits, necessity obliged him to 
wear the most efficient for work on week-days. A good day’s shooting, to look at the 
one he now wore, might have permanently finished its career. 

After breakfast, which was rendered rather pleasant by an attempt at comfort, not to 
to say elegance, for they had a clean table-cloth and some fresh water-cresses, the good 


76 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


squire made no secret of taking out liis Bible and Prayer-book. With both tucked inider 
his arm, and a cigar in his mouth, he took up a sunny position under one of the cliffs. 

While smoking, he delivered himself over to the difficult task of thinking — an em- 
ployment which always furrowed his flue open brow. The cigar fliiishcd, he gave up 
thinking, and opened his Prayer-book, in which he might be noticed reading with all 
his heal-t and soul the whole service, going through it all in the most orthodox and 
pious manner. 

Apparently pleased with himself and his employment, he rose from it in high satis- 
faction, and to express this fully, he lit another cigar. 

Strolling towards their palace, he encountered Scruttles coming to w^ash the potatoes 
in a primitive manner at the well. 

Part of the squire’s cogitations had been about Scruttles. He was conjecturing to 
himself the best mode of opening a germ of interest in the heart of the “ excellent con- 
vict,” which would bud forth into flowers, and eventualy produce fruit. 

Ills knowledge of human nature made him steadily reject overtures of a promissory 
or conditional kind. Ills desire was to do Scruttles permanent good. If he got him to 
swear all sorts of oaths regarding his future conduct, under promise of certain rewards, 
he felt sure that Scruttles would be forsworn. 

No, the squire felt that, like Sal’s master, he must contrive to excite an interest in 
that strange black thing that no doubt did duty for the heart of the excellent con- 
vict.” Cue white line had been discovered in it, namely, that involuntary respect that 
Scruttles shared for true, honest virtue. Scruttles must not only entertain a liking, but 
a certain respect, for the person who was to do him good. 

The squire shook his head over the prospect. It wms new to him to feel that upon his 
actions, his words, a human soul might be perilled or saved. He acted so much upon 
the impulse of the moment, that he could not credit himself with any extraordinary 
merit. The Almighty had been so merciful as not to make him hate himself, through 
the power of some low vice in his organization ; nevertheless, he was but a man after all. 

And a man, as the squire was fain to allow to himself, as weak as any woman in the 
matter of self-control. 

Having, therefore, -with infinite labor of thought, delivered himself of all intentions to 
vie with Sal’s master in goodness, it remained to interest the “ excellent convict ” in a ■ 
totally different manner. 

Without entering into any great depth of thought on the matter, the squire decided 
to open the campaign by action rather than by implication. 

In a word, he took five shillings out of his pocket, and presented it, then and there, 
to the “ excellent convict.” 

The worthy creature so far corroborated the squire’s notion that “ money will buy any- 
thing,” that he became pleasingly transfixed wdth amazement. His basket of potatoes, 
placed just under the spout of the well, was heedlessly kicked over, in an involuntary 
expression of delight. It was evident that five shillings was an uncommon sight to 
Scruttles, insignificant as such a sum may appear. 

“ I give you that for the trouble I gave you last night.” 

“Axing yer honor’s parding, it were a trouble.” 

“ I wish you had told us the truth, Scruttles.” 

“ Axing yer honor’s parding, I hadn’t time, yer honor.” 

“ What do you mean? ” 

“ I -were tuk wi’ the flutters, please yer honor; and when I has the flutters I mostly 
knows nothing at all of anythink ! ” 

“But surely it was easier to tell what really occurred to you than inventing a parcel 
of — I may say very ugly and useless lies? ” 

“ Axing j^er honor’s parding, I didn’t go for to think as yer honor wanted fur to know 
the beginnings and endings of your ’umble servant. I were thinking in coorse as yer 
honor tliowt to ’ave a bit of bemusement like. I’ll coom again, yer honor, and settle it 
all reecht.” 

“ No, no ; I do not wish to hear any more ; but go on washing your potatoes, and we 
will talk anotherdime.” 

honor, we’ve mostly a hep o’ time for chat in the evenin’s sir — axing yer 
honor’s parding.” 

The squire ^yalked away. He felt intuitively that the five shillings must be left to 
make its own impression, unsupported by advice or lectures. On his way he encoun- 
tered Spooner, who, stretching his arms and indulging in a vast yawn, yet said, in the 
most cheery manner, — 

“Glorious day, squire! I have been drinking the fresh air in great gulps, and 
sunning myself in this delicious blaze, like a turtle ! AYhat a world it is we live in, 
squire! heavenly, by Jove! And this life is so delightful, as the poet says, I forget 

“ I don’t understand poetry, my dear Spooner — unless it is a good song. Poetry has 
such a roundabout way of telling the truth.” 


PUFF ! PUFF ! 


77 


“ Pardon me, squire, that is allowable. Poetical license has now become a proverb ; 
and, believ<' me, without poetry, what a dull, humdrum, prosaic life we should lead. 

The gems, the pearls, the beautiftil bits I could repeat to you, squire ” 

“ No, I thank you, Spooner — I fancy it is nearly lunch time. At home I have always 
remarked how hungry I am on a Sunday, and I put it down to going to church. But I 
am just as hungry now, when I have not been to church at all.” 

“ That is a most curious psychological study, my dear squire — one upon which vol- 
umes could be written, had one the time.” 

“ I don’t recommend you to begin, as I, for one, would never find the time to read it. 
It is cuougli f^r me that I always feel hungry on a Sunday.” 

“ Well, ’tis a healthy feeling, and no doubt, psychologically considered, might be 
brought forward as proof that Sunday has that invigorating power which a day of rest 
ought to produce.” 

_ And my opinion is that it is a remarkably sleepy day, also ; which I put down 'to the 
simple fact that, having nothing particular to do after church is over, one pays atten- 
tion to one’s stomach, which, overloaded, naturally produces drowsiness, and if your 
psychologists can write a volume upon such a simple fact, why, they are cleverer people 
than I took them for.” 

“ It is extraordinary the mines of thought that arise from the contemplation of the 
simplest actions. It is in pauses of life, such as we are now enjoying, that one can 
realize for a short space the worlds of fancy and creative power so beautifully expressed 
by Byron — no, Wordsworth 

“ Ha ! here’s Ei’auk with his apron on — now we shall know what is for luncheon ! ” 
“Have either of you,” asks Frank, “seen Scruttles? — he ought to have returned 
from washing the potatoes some time ago.” 

“ I am afraid I detained him talking — here he comes ! What are you going to give 
us, Frank?” 

“ I meant to have given you an omelette, but all our eggs are finished. I then thoiight 
to roast a rabbit, but there is not one skinned and prepared. I looked at the beef to 
broil some steaks, but I took the inside of the sirloin yesterday, and it I cut off more, 
there will not be enough for dinner. Finally, Sam has placed on the table the bread, 
tlie cheese, the butter, also the pepper, the salt, and the mustard — and there are the 
potatoes, when boiled.” 

Thb squire laughed good-humoredly, saying, — 

“ I hope the boat will come early to-morrow — we seem in want of everything.” 

“ Yes, it is most astonishing to me how the things disappear. I imagined we had rats 
about the place, but I never heard of rats carrying off half a pound of pepper, two 
bricks of salt, almost as big as you, and divers and sundries of equally odd things. 
Scruttles thinks they have melted, but I never heard that coffee was given that way, or 
spices, or an unopened bottle of Worcester sauce — to say nothing of a pair of my 
shooting socks.” 

“ That is remarkable, indeed. Summers; no one can have stolen such things, becaxise 
common sense tells one they can do nothing with them here. They must be mislaid.” 

“The fact is,” says Frank, “ Puff must be haunted; however, I am anxious to meet 
a ghost, so I will make it my business to keep a sharp lookout for him.” 

It was rather odd that Mr. Summers appeared to address himself to the “ excellent 
convict ” rather than the gentleman, and that worthy creature seemed to feel it, for he 
suddenly took himself off — out of sight! 

“ I think,” observed Sir George, coming forward, and looking still more sleepy and 
lazy than Spooner, “ that we made a great mistake not going to Hampton to church. It 
is so confounded dull here ! ” 

“ Haven’t you read your prayers? ” 

“No, what’s the good? What does one have clergymen for, but to do it for us ? ” 

“I shall be very happy to act parson after luncheon, gentlemen. I am at present 
your patient log-man, for I cut the wood for your fires. I am, though an inferior artist, 
your cook. I endeavor to please you as house-maid, making your beds, sweeping your 
fioors, and arranging your furniture. I will now strive to be your parson.” 

“Thanks, my dear Frank; to tell you the truth, I do not exactly know what we 
should do without you? ” 

“ And do you know the reason why, squire ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Because I endeavor to imitate the numerous and unselfish virtues of a woman! ” 

“ Oh ! — oh ! — treason ! — treason ! ” 

As King Crab uttered these words, he emerged out of a corner without his coat, a 
needle and thread in his hand. 

“ Why, you are doing woman’s work now ! ” 

“ Of course, I undertook to do whatever they did! ” 

“ My wife never sews on a Sunday.” 

“ Works of necessity, my dear squire, are allowed. Besides, your wife has nothing 


78 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


in the world to do all day, poor soul, but sew ! Therefore she is glad of a rest on 
Sunday.” 

“ Weil, if it is not against your conscience to sew on a Sunday, I shall be glad if you 
will put a button on my shooting-coat? ” 

“ With immense pleasure ! ” cried the captain, glowing with gratified delight. 

The squire went gravely up for his coat, and felt in the pocket for a button that had 
come olf the day before. He was a tidy man was the squire, and was glad to have his 
button sewn on. If the captain had no scruples about Sunday, why should he? 

He carried the coat and button into the captain’s sanctum. 

“ Leave it here, squire, and I will bring it out to you in a trice, all right.” 

But the squire loved his garments. Ho had no idea of leaving so precious a thing as 
his coat to the unclean mercies of Captain Crabshawe’s sanctum. There were ail sorts 
of untidinesses. 

King Crab seeing the state of the squire’s feelings, suffered his vanity to conquer his 
nerve. 

“ Very well; hold your coat, it’s all the same to me how I do it.” 

But it appeared that, in pleasing his vanity in one respect, he was grievously affront- 
ing her in another. 

After a deal of manoeuvring, which, in a woman would have been called coquetry, 
Crabshawe brought out of his pocket a case out of the case spectacles, which, with 
much care, he adjusted on his nose. 

“What! Crab!” shouts the squire (for his ordinary speech is so remarkably loud, 
that when astonished, he cannot help but shout), “ come to spectacles ; who would ” 

“ Hush! squire — hush! not so loud. These are not spectacles, they are magnifiers. 

No one ever threads a needle without them.” 

“ Elizabeth does — and little Bessie too.” 

“They use bodkins; I confine myself entirely to needles, owing to their sharper 
points. There is a vast deal of difference between bodkins and needles.” 

“ I should think so ! Bodkins have tape for thread.” 

“ My dear squire, you are quite deceived. Now, don’t breathe so hard, it affects the 
thread, which sometimes is most obstinate. Ha ! there, ’tis done ; my needle is thread- 
ed, squire ; and now for the knot — but stay ! for a button, double thread is the thing ! ” 

“True for you! ” remarks the squire, admiringly. 

“Now for the knot.” 

Never was such vexatious thread, or such a vixenish knot. Either the thread would 
not be knotted, or the knot being made, suddenly disappeared. But at last all was 
ready — needle, thread, and knot. Notwithstanding this desirable state of things. King 
Crab still paused. 

“ To tell you the truth, squire, I am always in a little bit of a puzzle as to whether * 
one begins with the coat or the button.” 

“ True, that’s a devil of a puzzle.” 

First, it was placed one way, then another, then upside down, then inside out. Final- 
ly, inspiration condescended to visit King Crab, and the needle was seen coming through 
the coat within an inch of the proper place. 

“ Hurrah ! ” exclaims the squire, “ here she is ! — very near. Crab ! ” 

Crab tries again, and this time hits the exact spot so nearly as to feel it would be 
tempting Providence to try again. Consequently, he slowly, triumphantly draws the 
needle forth, then the thread, nervously as the knot approaches nearer. Finally, the - 
knot does its duty, and refuses to go further. Satisfied, he breathes freely, and re- 
marks, — 

“ I knew it was a capital knot ! ” 

Full of gratified importance, he is about to put the needle through again, when the 
squire reminds him of the button. 

“ Ha ! true — I was thinking so much of the knot, I forgot the button.” 

The button is soon in its place. It is held on to the coat with the grasp of a man 
saving himself from being drowned by clutching the branch of a tree. Crab makes 
one or two excellent shots with his needle to and fro, which excite the squire’s warm- 
est approbation. At last he bungles — there is one hole in the button that is most 
aggravating. In endeavoring to force the needle through it, nolens volens — the point 
becomes seriously damaged. 

“ Come, it does not matter — the button is on and fast, which is all we want, squire — 
therefore. I’ll fasten ofi*.” 

“But Elizabeth always goes like this,” said the squire, winding the thread round the 
button. 

“AVell it is not a bad plan — I will do it if you like, though unnecssary, in my 
opinion.” 

The squire considered it more orthodox that it should be done. So it was done, un- 

til so much thread was wound round, the button looked as if it had a sore throat, and 

0 ^ 


PUFF ! PUFF ! 79 

had enveloped it in a sort of necktie. But at last the coat was delivered up to the 
squire by the captain, who declared the button was as safe as a church. 

“ So it ought to be,” said Frank, peeping in, “ for you have been nearly half an hour 
sewing it on. Luncheon is quite cold.” 

“ Pray say potatoes, Frank, for I am more hungry than ever, and you know there is 
nothing else.” 

“ ]\Irs. Joscelyn would have sewn it on in two minutes.” 

“ Pooh, Summers ! Thank goodness I am not Mrs. Joscelyn.” 

“ Thank goodness Mrs. Joscelyn is not you.” 

“You may say so, but perhaps she does not.” 

“ I will give her credit for having the same opinions as myself — meantime, while 
you are eating your luncheon ” 

“ Potatoes, Frank.” 

“ Of potatoes, will you help George through a serious difficulty? He has only one 
clean shirt left.” 

“ The boat comes to-morrow with the clean linen.” 

“ Bnt I want my shirt this evening, and I have not a clean one for to-morrow.” 

There was no answer to this distressing tale, which, perhaps, was caused by the fact 
that Sir George’s hearers did not feel the case so acutely as he did. 

“ You see, Crab,” continued Sir George, fretfully, “ women are of use — what in the 
world should we do without laundresses ? ” 

“ Laundresses ! — pooh ! I have washed my own shirt many a time.” 

“And ironed it? ” * 

“ To be sure, and wrung it out, too, better than any laundress ever did! Besides, 
there are machines now, and it would be a good spec to send for one. You put your 
shirt in at one end, Follett, and it comes out at the other ready to put on.” 

“An American dodge, I conclude,” says Frank. 

“ But is it starched and aired? ’* asked Sir George. 

“ Of course, though why you want your things aired when you have your own body 
on which to air them, is a mystery to me. I thought that was a folly confined to 
women.” 

“ Since you have mentioned women. Crab, hear my resolve : I won’t wash my own 
clothes — I WILL have them done by a womajst 1 ” 

“ Don’t roar, squire — I was only joking. Of course I don’t mean you absolutely to 
wash. I was merely mentioning this machine, which at once proves we are not de- 
pendent on a woman to wash our shirts.” 

“ You may say what you like ; my private opinion is that, as regards washing, woman 
is much the best machine you can have ! ” 

“ Take your own way, squire — I have learned one thing during the last week, and 
that is, Mrs. Joscelyn has a deal to put up with.” 

This remark tickled the squire’s fancy. He retired to a corner, and chuckled over it, 
until he fell asleep. 

Spooner and Follett had already exhausted their capabilities that way ; and so went 
for what they call a stroll. 

Frank put on his apron, to make, as he said, preparations for dinner. 

Had any one peeped into the captain’s sanctum, they would have seen him, magnifiers 
on nose, doing what he called “darning.” 

Over which he also fell asleep. 

At four o’clock the squire awoke, cheerful and content. 

He found Frank enlarging the mind of Scruttles on various points. 

“ Why, Frank, I thought you were going to be a parson, and read the evening ser- 
vice to us ? ” 

“ The parson was ready, but there was no congregation ! ” 

“ I will go and call them.” 

By dint of great exertion, Spooner and Follett had got up enough drowsiness to take 
another nap. They gladly obeyed the squire’s call. Spooner had consulted his whis- 
kers so often as to what she should do, that they were, every hair, standing apart, and 
he looked a wild man of the woods. 

King Crab was not to be roused. So Frank read the psalms and lessons (he would 
do no more) to a congregation of three people. By the time this was done it was 
only half-past four. 

“ What are we to do with ourselves?” sighed Sir George; “two hours and a half to 
dinner, and no pleasure in anticipating its arrival. On the contrary, the less we think 
of it the better.” 

“ If we had anything to cook, we might have amused ourselves with each concocting 
a new dish,” remarked Spooner. 

“ But as we have not, it is the best not think about it.” 

“ We ought to have made Sam and Scruttles attend Frank’s efforts as narson.” 

“ Do you think they care about that sort of thing ? ” • 


80 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“ They have souls as well as ourselves, I suppose ! ” 

“ It is a remarkable fact,” says Mr. Spooner, “that a man may have a soul, and yet 
be ignorant of the fact.” 

“ How do you make that out? ” 

“His conscience, you know, is deadened! 

' ‘ Breathes there a man with soul so dead— 

Who never to himself has said — ’ ” 

“ That we are remarkably dull. I wonder what the ladies are doing?” 

“ They meant to go Exe church ! ” 

“ By the by, suppose we have a row out, and go and reconnoitre Luff ? ” 

“ Would that be fair? ” 

“ Of course it would ; the sea is a highway ! ” 

“ I should like to go and see that two-funnelled fellow that came into the bay last 
night. Let us have out the boat, and row round her.” 

“ But I must cook the dinner, squire.” 

“ Pooh, Frank, there is nothing but that lump of beef. It must be a stupidity pass- 
ing the ordinary bounds of servants’ brains, if Sam and Scruttles cannot roast those 
few bones without spoiling them.” 

“ I should not mind, if we had anything else to eat? ” 

“ Then roast it at once, and let us dine ; and go for a row afterwards. Our luncheon 
was not so heavy as to make us indifferent to dinner, let it come when it may.” 

“That is delicious; moonlight upon the water — under cover of dusk, we can ap- 
proach Luff, and look upon those we love. 

‘ She was a form of light and life. 

That seen, became a part of sight ; 

And rose where’er I turn’d my eye— 

The morning star of memory.’ ” 

“For heaven’s sake ! no more poetry; let us go and help Frank to cook the dinner. 
But what are you gazing at, Frank? ” 

“ I see a boat, squire.” 

“Is that all?” 

“ It is coming here.” 

“ No. Give me the glass ; are the ladies init? ” 

“No; not a vestige of female hat or bonnet. It is undoubtedly rowed by her 
Majesty’s sailors — ’tis a boat from the two-funnelled government steamer.” 

“ Are you sure they are coming here ? ” 

“I am never sure of anything until it has happened.” 

Our four gentlemen forgot all about dinner, in their excitement regarding the boat. 

“ She has an admiral’s ensign flying ! ” 

“ G-o-o-d h-e-a-v-e-n-s ! ” exclaimed Mr. Spooner, vehemently pulling his whiskers. 

, “ Let us,” said the squire, glowing, go down to the landing-place, and be ready to 
receive him.” 

“ Where’s King Crab? Let him put on all his majesty to receive the only being on 
earth I envy — a British admiral.” 

King Crab was called, and as he emerged from his den, none of his subjects were 
proud of him ; but he was indifferent to their opinion. 

“ Good gracious ! ” murmured Spooner, as they walked down to the landing-place, 
“ an admiral, a British admiral — what have we got to offer him in the way of a spread, 
Frank?” 

“There’s the remains of the salt, the pepper, the mustard ” 

“ Gracious heavens I we dare not offer him anything.” 

“ It would be extremely daring if we did. But here he comes — a brace of them.” 

“ What an agitating moment, after our calm Sunday ! ” 

“ Calm Sunday I — don’t call it a Sunday, Spooner, but the dullest day I ever encoun- 
tered. I shall cut my throat if we pass such another.” 

The boat had now touched the shore ; the sailors had tossed their oars, and the 
squire, beaming with every kindly feeling, was handing the gentlemen out of the boat, 
who, in the eyes of the others, appeared two unpretentious gentlemen, and nothing 
more. 

“Allow me to introduce myself to the king of this island,” said the oldest, who was 
little, dark, wearing spectacles, but appeared brimful of fun and jollity. Saying 
which, he handed his card to the squire ; for though Captain Crabshawe pressed for- 
ward, his general appearance and dress were, as hinted before, by no means royal — in 
fact, Sam was more presentable in the character of a gentleman. As the squire read 
the name aloud, there was heard a murmur, and seen an expression from each, of the 
most unbounded astonishment and satisfaction. 


PUFF ! PUFF ! 


81 


And this is my friend, Colonel Erne. We are here — at least T am — on duty. A 
huppy chance has given me the vacant post of one who has to cruise about, every now 
and then, to visit the light-houses. Not having much to do to-day, we took a litUe 
turn in the bay, and hope we don’t intrude.” 

Intrude ! never was word so antagonistic to their feelings. They were honored — 
nattered forever obliged by the visit! Had the admiral known of the serious dif- 
hculties into which they had been plunged to get rid of the time, he would have cor- 
roborated the truth of their remarks. 

“ We were about,” said the squire, “ doing the same thing. Struck by the beauty of 
your I'essel, we meant to row round her this evening.” 

“ It will give me great pleasure to receive you on board. We heard at Exe, where 
we have been to church, that some gentlemen were located here for the purpose of 
shooting.” 

“ Did 3^ou see any ladies there? ” asked the squire, with a pretence at being indiffer- 
' eiit to any answer. 

“ I saw ” Here the admiral paused ; he looked round — “I saw an uncommon 

pretty girl.” 

“ Elizabeth — Bessie ! ” 

“Arabella!” 

“ Miss Daintree ! ” 

“ She is the prettiest girl I have ever seen,” observed Colonel Erne. 

“But you saw more than one?” asked the squire, now anxiously. 

“ Yes, there were four ladies and a little girl.” 

“ Do they seem happy? ” asked Mr. Spooner. 

“ Veiy much so, I should say, if blooming looks are a proof of health and happiness.” 

“ One of the ladies is my wife,” said the squire. 

“You are much to be envied, sir,” said the gallant admiral. 

“ And one of the best a man might wish to have ; she has not the heart to say ‘ No * 
when she can oblige, however much she may be put about it.” 

“Fortunate for you, sir,” again answered the polite admiral. 

“Ha! ha! — so I think myself. Now, will you, sir, honor us by taking some ” 

“ Hush ! squire ; we haven’t anything,” whispered Frank. 

“ Pooh! there’s wine.” 

The squire’s hospitality rose in proportion to -their being nothing to offer; heartiness 
must make amends for destitution. But the admiral declined everything. 

“ No,” said he ; it is getting late. I am off to-morrow ; so, if I am not interrupting 
more important matters, I hope you will all place yourselves under my command, and 
take ship with me.” 

In so great a hurry were they to do so, that they were all in the barge, and some way 
from the shore, before Frank recollected his duties as cook. 

“The beef ! oh! the beef! ” he whispered vehemently. 

“Hang the beef ! ” said the squire ; “ I will go without my dinner rather than lose 
the pleasure of an hour’s conversation with one of England’s finest sailors.” 

Though the admiral took no notice of this by-play, he overheard it, and got red in 
the face trying to control his risibility. 

They w^ere about three quarters of an hour getting to the ship, and leaped on board 
with the alacrity of kids. No need now to wonder how they were to pass the time; 
it was sure to pass all too quickly. 

No Englishman can go on board one of her Majesty’s vessels without a feeling both of 
pride and self-satisfaction. The noble creature commands love and admiration at 
once, both of which are enhanced by the exulting feeling that what is the Queen’s is 
equally the nation’s ; and what belongs to the nation is individually the property of 
each person — for each helped to create her. 

Thus our five Puffites exulted and glorified over the two-funnelled yacht as if she 
was their own private property, built to their order, and planned from the wonderful 
cleverness of their own brains. 

Mr. Spooner, in the exuberance of national pride and individual self-glorification, 
essayed to personate the manners and walk of a British tar. He scrambled up to the 
highest parts of the ship, and altogether poked himself in, and out, and under, and 
about the ropes and other impediments, so that his whiskers got behind his ears, and 
his back hair was much rumpled. 

The captain sat on a deck-stool, his legs far apart, his position uncomfortable, but 
his countenance bland and smiling in the extreme. Sir George, always the perfect 
gentleman, was fraternizing with Colonel Erne. During their discourses you might 
have picked up a good deal of information regarding what had been seen and said in 
Exe church that day. 

As for Frank, he was on the quarter-deck. He had the admiral’s own private tele- 
scope in hand. Frank was gazing at a long, misshapen little island not a mile away. 
Did he see the flutter of any petticoats thereon ? 

11 


82 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


Meantime, tlie squire clings to the admiral as a limpet to rock. The admiral is a 
man after his ovvn heart. He says “yes” and “ no ” downright. i 

They had now been almost an hour on board, all loath to go back to Pun — unlimited 
smoking, that piece of roast beef, that “excellent convict.” An odor of something 
toothsome permeates through the balmy evening air. The squire, sniffing it, becomes 
conscious of the poorness of his luncheon. He suddenly begins to think, if that piece 
of roast beef was before him, he could devour it, bones and all. 

“I say, Frank, we must go back; Scruttles will over-roast that beef — we shall find 
it a cinder.” 

“ Unfortunately, squire, I gave strict orders it was not to go near the fire until I was 
there to see it done. We shall be obliged to wait, after we arrive, until it is roasted.” 

“ Good heavens ! I have a wolf in mo now ! ” 

At that identical moment the admiral, who had gone below, came on deck, and going 
up to the squire, said, — 

“ It would be extremely gratifying to Erne and myself if you would kindly excuse all 
tleflcicncies and dine with us. I cannot promise you anything like a proper dinner, 
but, such as it is, you would oblige us greatly by helping us to discuss it.” 

Now an invitation to diiie with two heroes, whose very nod was an honor, was in 
itself a gratification that the squire felt could only happen to him once in a lifetime. 
Hut under the peculiar circumstances of the case, the honor was nearly swamped in 
the extreme seasonableness of the invitation. 

As for any remembrance of the challenge, its various clauses, its penalties, its for- 
feits, not one of the five gentlemen seemed to have the least remembrance of its 
existence. 

They congratulated each other heartily as they washed their hands, and made the 
best toilet they could. As for Frank, he capered like a boy ; the squire thought of the 
beef with contempt. King Crab always enjoyed dining at anybody’s expense rather 
than his own, and Spooner argued in his own mind it was of no use being an admiral 
unless you had champagne every day for dinner. 

Sir George alone was moody. His mind kept harping on the admiration Miss Dain- 
tree had excited at church, for he had extracted sufficient from Colonel Erne to discover 
that this “ uncommon pretty girl ” was she. 

Sir George enjoyed, in common with many of his sex, the feeling of desiring to have 
what others admired. Or, in other words, he only hankered after a thing in propor- 
tion as he saw it estimated by others. 

Captain Crabshawe had rather weakened his interest in Miss Daintree by unneces- 
sarily thrusting her upon him as a wife. But gradually she was regaining her place in 
his esteem, and the unexpected praise of two strangers elevated her so high, that he 
was attacked with some sharp pangs of jealousy. 

Nevertheless, it w'as something to be able to eat a dinner which Scruttles had not 
only never seen, but which it w’as impossible he could have ever been near. Besides, 
the yacht would be gone to-morrow, so “to dinner with wffiat appetite w’e may,” said 
ffil. Just before they sat down to it, the admiral begged a gun might be loaded. 

“ As soon as grace is said, fire it oft’,” ordered he, wiiicli was done. Did no mis- 
givings even then eross the minds of any of the Puffites? 

If Mr. Summers had been looking out at Luff with the admiral’s own telescope, why, 
I really believe he might have seen feminine hands waving feminine pocket-handker- 
chiefs. But no — simple-minded, unsuspicious creatures, they imagined nothing and 
thought of nothing, but that they w^ere about to be regaled by an excellent dinner. 

For it was an excellent dinner. 

Oxtail soup, soles, brill, unexceptionable lobster sauce — a splendid sirloin of beef, 
with the undercut intact — such a Yorkshire pudding ! such a snowy mound of shredded 
liorseradish ! such a salad I one might suppose the sea was one entire kitchen garden, 
so profuse were the vegetables and condiments. 

Delicate white fowds nestled on each side of an arched, highly decorated, resolute 
tongue. ^ Four side dishes, any of which w^ould have been the “pike de resistance ” at 
Puff, being composed, one of larded sweetbreads, another of pork curry, a third of 
broiled kidneys, a forth of “ cotclettes d la tartare,'” made the hearts of our Puffites ex- 
pand. This course was followed by ducklings, and a young mountain of green peas. 
A plum-pudding, and a variety of other sweets, making Mr. Spooner long to be a camel, 
who is so far superior to human beings, that it possesses two stomachs. And lots of 
champagne ! 

^ Under these pleasant influences, the squire, always candid, became wholly confiden- 
tial, and related what would have been their dinner had they gone home. A piece of 
roast beef, truly, but the undercut gone, used for cutlets; no Yorkshire pudding ; no 
salad — a salad, indeed ! they had forgotten the taste of one. 

King Crab, it must be allowed, drank more champagne than was good for him, and 
luckily dosed off whenever there was a pause in eating. Spooner was happy. 

Sir George forgot his jealousy ; Frank was like a boy. 


puff! puff! • 83 

Nothing could exceed the amiability, the condescension, the courtesy of the admiral 
and his friends. 

At nine o’clock the barge was reported as ready to take the gentlemen home ; for the 
admiral said he did not wish the sailors to be later than eleven in turning into their 
hammocks. 

Full of thanks, of gratitude, of happiness, of dinner, of champagne, the Puflites bid 
adieu to their kind entertainers. 

“ Hark ye ! ” cried the admiral, just as they were about to depart. “ Have you not 
made a challenge with the ladies we met at church ? ” 

They all exclaimed in the affirmative. 

“ Well, they also did us the honor of paying us a visit on board to-day, and had some 
luncheon. I was to tell you this from them. And in case you thought it any infringe- 
ment of the challenge, they are now square, for you have been so good as to dine with 
me ! ” 

“ Ila ! ha ! that’s capital ! That is the best joke I ever heard. I forgot all about the 
challenge, but of course it is all square. We are quits on that matter.” 

“ All right,” answered the admiral. “I will tell them in the morning what you say, 
as I am going to send a boat to Luff for cream.” 

“ Pray do, and give my wife my love, and tell her I should have been heartily ashamed 
of her if she had missed the honor you have done her, by any punctillio regarding our 
foolish challenge. I owed you a good deal before, admiral, but I take it as the kindest 
thing of all, your showing my two Elizabeths this line ship. So once more adieu, and 
good luck wherever you go ! ” 

And so they parted. 

“ I hardly think it was perfectly correct Arabella trusting herself with strange gen- 
tlemen, and not having the protection of her husband’s arm,” murmured an aggrieved 
voice. 

“ Lord save you, man I great men are always good, men. Elizabeth might go with 
them to the world’s end, and I should not mind.” 

“You are always so sanguine, squire ; you credit people with goodness, knowing 
nothing about them.” 

“ And I should be much ashamed of myself if I did not. I expect them to think 
well of me, and the least I can do is to pay them the same compliment.” 

“ I wonder where Miss Daintree sat ? ” ^ 

“ Just like the wummen,” growled an unsteady voice ; “ they are always gadding. I 
wouldn’t be you, squire — I wouldn’t be you. Spoon — I wouldn’t be ” 

The rest was lost in a snore. 

EXTRACTS FROM THE JOURNAL LEFT AT PUFF. 

“ Just returned from a visit to the screw yacht ‘ Cannibal.’ On board were two gen- 
tlemen — heroes, whom the world at present delight to honor; and all I can say is, that 
they deserve it. When I have read of all their daring — their daily facing of wounds, 
mutilation, and death, their wonderful pluck, courage, and endurance, I have been lost 
in admiration. Now that I have seen them face to face, my admiration has increased 
a hundred-fold. I am proud of them as Englishmen, I love them for being good men. 
There is not a trace of pretension about them. Unassuming and gentlemanly, they 
frankly tell their tale, not so much to.glorify themselves, as to relate the wonders they 
have seen, to those who may never witness them. I could love the admiral like a 
brother. One might have supposed a man lost in the ice for four years, isolated as it 
is the etiquette a captain should be from the rest of his crew, cut off from all commu- 
nion with family and friends, frozen in his affections as he was frozen in the body, 
would have come out of that ordeal a soured and cheerless man. But, on the contrary, 
so genial a fellow I never met. He has the heartiest laugh, the sunniest smile, and the 
jolliest manner possible. And so kind as he must have been to my little Bessie ! Lucky 
little baggage ! to have an admiral, and such an admiral, to play with. During one 
part of this day, I was inclined to consider it the most dreary, wearisome time i ever 
spent. Now I have no hesitation in saying, this day shall evermore be recorded as a 
white day in my calendar. The admiral is not half my size, and to think of all he has 
undergone I Colonel Erne is a fine fellow. It is curious how frank-hearted and genial 
sailors are. I wonder to what it is owing? ” 

Another handwriting, — 

“ My dear squire msthetically considered the peculiar physiology of a sailor’s mind. 
But, as in a journal of this sort, philosophical matter is much out of place, I shall con- 
fine myself to saying that the champagne wms excellent. As I looked upon these two 
heroes, I must own to feeling, notwithstanding our pleasant position, and the excel- 
lency of the curry, a little envious. Why had nature, or rather fortune, debarred me 
from being either of them? What was there in my ‘ physique ’ that was so far differ- 
ent ? I must L id an uneventful life in a bank, and never taste in the remotest way the 


84 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


intoxicating draught of heroism. For the life of me, I could not see why^ my soul, 
burning with ardor, vehement as their own, wms left to flicker out a dull existence 
unknown, unseen, unrecorded ! Such thoughts as these, doubtless, sow the seeds of 
discontent. I acknowledge my fault ; let me be frank. I cannot — I do not — I would 
never presume to emulate, to match myself with the admiral. No; that idea is prc> 
sumptuous. But the colonel — a man of my own age — my own stature — our hair much 
the same color — a general resemblance — let me ask, why is he about to be knighted, 
and become Sir Lionel, and I remain plain Augustus Spooner? 

“ With that I must content me. The more so, because of a fair and gentle being, 
who has entrusted her happiness to me. When I received her vows and gave her 
mine, the very act debarred me from any other duty. All the ardent and burning long- 
ings for distinction — for a name — must be repressed. 

“ Another life has a claim upon me. I am no longer answerable for myself alone. And 
shall I murmur at this? I will not. At the same time, I hardly know if the ladies 
were justified in going to church without any male protectors. Would it be well to 
give them a hint? ’Tis on matters of such vital importance that the heart of a hus- 
band throbs with more feeling than the brain. 

“A. S.” 

“ Especially when that brain is decidedly under the influence of too much cham- 
pagne.” 

These words were written in a disguised hand. 

Another now continues the Journal, — 

“I do not care whether Spooner had taken too much champagne or not, but I agree 
•with him in thinking there was a want of caution in the ladies going to church in such 
an out-of-the-way place as Exe, and meeting such a number of men, as they must have 
done. It was not right. 

“ Like Spooner, I refrain from mentioning names, while I say that there are certain 
people whose good looks excite admiration, without any intention on their part. That 
frankness of manner, so admired by the squire as characteristic of a sailor, is some- 
times much too demonstrative to be pleasant. 

“ Even the admiral could not withhold his admiration, and it is astonishing how 
quickly that sort of thing is understood. Not that I And fault with him for admiring a 
pretty girl — he is quite right to do it; but I object to people saying they are doing a 
thing, when all the time they are not doing it at all. It is quite against my ideas of 
propriety to say, ‘ I am going to church to say my prayers,’ and all the time you are 
observing the beauty of your neighbor ; and she, equally inattentive to her duties, is 
quite aware of, and delights in, your admiration. 

“ Not that I blame a girl for liking to be admired — very far from it ; but I do object to 
a girl not being content with one admirer at a time. I respect the admiral, a man 
would not be a man if he did not ; but I have no fancy for his friend. I don’t take to 
‘ Sirs,’ which I hear he is to be made so, by being knocked on the back by a sword, and 
desired to rise up Sir Nobody Nothing, and in his case only for bearing being shot at 
better than other people. I should have regarded him as more of a hero, if he had lost 
a limb, or a feature. He does not even seem to have suflfered in health. 

“ I cannot help fancying a good many people get much more than they deserve, while 
others don’t secure what they really have a right to. 

“ I should no more have dared to admire her, in the way he evidently does, though 

he has only met her to-day, than but I forget, this is the journal. Let me record in 

it that our first week is over, and I am very glad of it. But, of course, more on account 
of the ladies than ourselves. Allowing that we have had some disagreeables — some 
contre-temps that we did not expect. They, of course, must have experienced such 
things twofold. I propose that next Sunday we go to Exe church. We need not speak 
to the ladies, but, at all events, -we can satisfy ourselves that they are not suffering, 
and we are at hand in case another crew of one of her Majesty’s ships should feel 
themselves called upon to take forcible possession of that out-of-the-way church. 

“ It may be possible that light-houses require oil and stones, but it strikes me as very 
remarkable that they should stand in need of them this particular week. I feel inclined 
to be up early to-morrow, and waylay the admiral’s boat as she returns with the cream. 
Who will give that cream? ” 

The curious writing begins : 

“ I know no more than you, and, what is more, I don’t care. I am glad to be on good 
terms with the knavey, but I don’t think much of the Adi. He may be a wise won, but 
he is not my stamp of a wise won. Miss Daintrey is no dout a pritty gurl, but she 
nose it. I should say the Adi. was wed, and to a Tartar, and has lots of gurls. He 
likes the wimmen, but, pore fellow, he is a sailor, and that is the reeson he knows 
nothing about wimmen, or he would be wizer. The dinner was good, considerin.” 

Another takes the pen : 

“The admiral is ‘ wed,’ and not to a Tartar — he has both boys and girls — so his 


“luff it is.” 85 

friend told me. But you monster, Crab!' you are disgusted with what he said about 
women. It made you ashamed of yourself, I hope. 

“ Highly gratified by the honor of his visit, deeply grateM to him fbr providing us 
with a dinner, the only real dinner wc have had for a week, ready to kiss the ground 
under his feet, you are now, when his back is turned, upbraiding the admiral for the 
noblest sentence a man could utter. 

“ When Spooner asked him of what action in his life he was most proud, he an- 
swered, 

“ ‘ Of licking the cockpit when I was a middy.’ 

“ ‘ I mean thing,’ stammered Spooner, confused by the answer. 

“ ‘ Of what thing am I most proud ? If you designate her as a thing, I am most proud 
of an Englishwoman ; for, go where you will, they are superior to all other women, in 
morals, habits, and appearance ! ’ 

“ I could have kissed the squire, he roared his applause so loudly. 

“ Crab comforted himself for this heresy by not suffering the bottle of port to leave 
his custody as long as there was port in it. 

“ I was glad to see George as pleasant as the squire. As for you, Spooner, you feel 
suspicious that ‘ the uncommon pretty girl ’ is your wife. Do so, by all means ; she 
cannot be too pretty in 5'our eyes. When I have a wife, if ever I am so fortunate as to 
obtain her w^hom I love, I shall conceive all poetry written in her praise, and hers 
alone. I shall interpret all commendations as meant for her. I shall expect all eyes to 
dwell upon her ; and I shall think it only a debt paid to her beauty and worth, to lay 
my life, my love, my all, at her feet.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

“luff it is.” 

After the excitement of the visit of the “ Cannibal ” yacht into Exe Bay, there can be 
no doubt about it that the ladies felt dull. A sort of apathy came over them. 

The journal in Mrs. Joscelyn’s handwriting admits that life was a little burdensome, 
for she stands convicted of making some sort of excuse. 

“ Excitement,” she writes, “is as necessary to some natures as the food they eat, the 
air they breathe. In women especially, enthusiasm and zeal kindle a flame that 
awakens their tenderest and most susceptible feelings. But in proportion to the 
amount to which they have been roused, does a certain reaction take place, unless they 
make use of this excitement to act upon the mind as a beneflcent elixir. In which case 
the impressions roused into life renovate the heart, as healing medicine invigorates the 
frame. I am afraid we have not so applied them. If the visit of the ‘ Cannibal ’ had taken 
place towards the end of our probation, it would have been better for us. At present 
it seems as if nothing more exciting could occur to us — as if all other adventures must 
be commonplace. 

“We can talk of nothing else, and think of nothing else. We remind each other of 
all that passed, and correct each other as to what either hero said to each of us. We 
have told each other over and over again what our individual feelings were on hearing 
the gun that announced the entrapment of our ‘ Lords ’ into the same scrape as our- 
selves. 

“ Truly that was a proud moment ! 

“ Our feminine powers had proved sufficient to induce the lion to betray the lion, or, 
in other words, for our sakes, weak creatures as we were, two male beings had agreed 
to circumvent five of their own sex. The thing was done — the gun sent a reverberat- 
ing echo of triumph all through the bay ! 

“The next morning we awoke still flushed with excitement and happiness. The 
three girls, attended by Susan, went down to the landing-place with a bottle of cream, 
some fresh butter, hot rolls, and the last of our eggs. The admiral’s boat was seen on 
its w’ay. As it approached. Colonel Erne was perceived steering. Rather surprised at 
their long absence, I went to see what caused it. 

“ My little Bessie was seated in the Ipoat. He held her as a hostage he said — for 
not daring to land, he had no other means of detaining them. But a gun from the 
‘ Cannibal ’ came booming over the water. 

“ ‘ Ha ! he told me he would do that if I lingered. That is the worst thing I know of 
the admiral ; he is always in such a hurry ! When he has done his business he will go 
away ; now I want him to stay here a week.’ 

“ ‘ He wants the cream for his breakfast,” said Bessie, ‘ and he must have it.’ 


86 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“ Taking advantage of a sudden relaxing in Ms ward and watch over her, Bessie 
sprang over the side of the boat and joined us. 

“ ‘ Now that is too bad — I shall come on shore ! ’ 

“ ‘ Oh ! no, don’t ! ’ pleaded Kate — ‘ think of our challenge. 

“ ‘I will drown myself sooner ! ” he answered, sinking back on his seat 

“ ‘ Good-by,’ I said, by way of hint. 

“‘Stop a moment. Will you let me come back? May I not come and visit you 
some day ? ’ 

“ ‘ Of course — we shall be only too delighted. Once more, good-by.’ 

< Stay — stay one moment —how shall I find you ? ’ 

“ I gave him die direction, saying, for the third time, ‘ Good-by.’ As I did so, a 
second gun was heard. 

“ Off we all ran, as if pursued. Not on our account should the admiral have to wait 
for his friend, and the cream for his breakfast. 

“ No -wonder we felt a little sad. Bessie could not settle to her lessons ; Kate spoilt 
the pndding for dinner ; Arabella was moping ; Clara alono remained happy and gay. 
She had discovered, she said, w^hile they weae detained by Colonel Erne, the sea-w’eed 
called ‘Porphyna Laciniata,’ commonly known as Laver, and very good to eat. 

“ ‘ Mrs. Joscelyn,’ she said to me, after dinner, w'hicli w^as a dull and stupid affair, 
‘ we must do something to rouse ourselves. If I -was not afraid of its being too true, I 
should like to rally my little gossip on losing her heart so suddenly. I almost thought 
I saw tears in her eyes as the great “ Cannibal ” steamed out of the bay.’ ” 

“ We all felt her loss, Clara; the bay looks quite forlorn without her.” 

“ What are we to do if we begin to be dull so soon ? ” 

“ Oh ! we are not dull, it is merely that sort of feeling which belongs to us ivomen 
after excitement. Our nature does not permit us to do things by halves ! ” 

“ But I shall not be content with a mere victory over the gentlemen. I want to prove 
to them that we have been twice as happy, ten times as merry, and a hundred times as 
contented. In short, that we are in no hurry to return to their agreeable society.” 

“ That is just my feeling, Clara,” chimed in Mrs. Spooner. All I pray and desire is, 
that they may have a lesson that will last them all their lives. When one sees gentle- 
men like the admiral and his friend, it is enough to disgust one with creatures like 


some I could name.” 

“ Come, you are a little severe. Suppose we each begin to write down all we know 
of the Arctic regions. I mean all that our two new friends have told us,” said Mrs. 
Joscelyn. 

“And we will sum it all up, and read it aloud at night,” exclaimed Clara. 

“ If that is the case, let each tell what we know to one, who shall prepare it for our 
critical notice.” 

“ That one shall be you.” 

“ No, I have neither time nor patience. Do it yourself, Clara! ” 

“ Then be merciful to me.” 

“ Put it into rhyme, gossip.” 

“ Oh, ye powers, she speaks ! Why, my dear sweetheart, I fancied you had lost your 
heart — tongue, I mean.” 

“ That was lucky for you, otherwise you know you deserved a good scolding.” 

“ Come, let us quarrel, it would amuse us.” 

“lam amused without.” 

“ Then will you come and help me to write about the Arctic regions? ” 

“ Oh I no ; it makes me shudder to think of it.” 


“Hal — 

“ She loved me for the dangers I had passed; 
And I love her that she did pity them.” 


“ Gossip 1 ” 

Kate ran after Clara to punish her. Clara ran for her life. Whether they really 
quarrelled is not known. 


Clara's Paper, 

“ In writing about the Arctic regions, I am in a manner upset at the very beginning, 
by being unable to realize the amount of cold that I have to describe. Moreover, it 
affected different people in different degrees. 

“ When mercury is at the freezing-point, we are to understand that it is seventy-one 
degrees below the freezing-point of water. In the great frosts that have occurred in 
England, the river Thames was frozen over, fairs were held on it, and people erected 
houses and lived in them. Also, not from exposure or want, people have died in 
England from extreme cold, and nothing else. 


87 


“ LUFF IT IS.” 

“ But in the Arctic regions, subjected to a state of atmosphere to which this was a 
mere nothing, Esquimaux babies lay in their mothers’ skin hoods, without covering, 
and did not seem to feel it. The least exposure of skin on the part of the European 
caused the part to be frost-bitten. When the admiral went at certain times of the 
ruoon to make astronomical observations, he did not dare to touch the instrument with 
his naked hand. The effect would have been the same had he clasped a red-hot iron 
bar. The skin would have been entirely taken off his fingers. The moisture of his 
breath congealed as it left his lips, and encrusted his beard and moustache with ice. 
The pain of thawing this was intense. 

“ They could not even touch a pannikin of hot tea without their mittens. In the different 
expeditions that were taken from time to time by sledging parties from the ships, they 
used to build themselves at night a snow hut, making their tent the roof; as long as 
the lamp was burning they kept pretty warm, but the intensity of the cold was some- 
times so great, that the clothes they laid aside to creep into their sleeping-bags would 
be frozen stiff by the morning. 

“Food is required of the strongest and most nourishing nature. There is a craxing 
for it, so that even the disgusting gastronomic ‘ delicacies,’ delighted in by the Esqui- 
maux, did not appear to them as nauseating as might be expected ; in fact, they had 
great rejoicings over killing a xvalrus, and regaled themselves like aldermen on its oily, 
fishy, strong flesh ; recording, with pious thankfulness, that they obtained twelve hun- 
dred pounds of good food out of him, to say nothing of ever so many casks of delicious 
blubber? 

“ The thing that seemed to have been the worst thing to bear — in fact, he shuddered 
at the bare recollection — was the long night of winter. 

“ It seemed as if Arctic voyagers must feel that darkness which so afflicted the 
Egyptians, which, as you may recollect, is spoken of in the Bible as a ‘ darkness that 
might be felt.’ 

“ It appeared to bring on a torpor of mind as xvell as body. Artificial heat is known 
to weaken all the tissues of life, while the warmth caused by exercise invigorates and 
strengthens them. The sort of stagnation that came over them during this long night 
of nine months was harder to fight against than any dangers they encountered. All 
sorts of ill-humors would accumulate not only in the blood but in the temper. 

“‘I believe,’ said the admiral, smiling xvith that soft womanly smile that comes 
straight from a good heart, ‘ I really believe a man might almost quarrel with his mother 
in the Arctic regions.’ 

“In fact, bound doxvn to the narroxv limits of a ship, circumscribed in space, in a 
sort of visible darkness, xvith few amusements, and no occupation, no wonder that 
captious tempers and evil humors rose strong and intolerant. There xvas nothing 
genial to awaken kindly feeling, there xvas nothing to rouse them from torpid selfish- 
ness but an awe of the region in which they lay, lonely, ice-bound ; a solemn vague 
perception that, desolate, forlorn, and isolated as they xvere, the Almighty eyes of God 
regarded them. 

“ In most of the ships that have gone to the Arctic regions, their crews have been 
more or less under the influence of this irritability. Enduring a slow, lingering life 
together, facing a sudden, almost inevitable annihilation from one hour to another, xvit- 
nessing God’s power in the mightiest and grandest forms, proclaiming ‘ What is man, 
ortho son of man, that I should regard him?’ isolated from all human ties, none of 
these things have sufficed to bind these sufferers together. 

“ It is recorded that one celebrated Arctic navigator, commanding an early expedi- 
tion, was on such bad terms with his first lieutenant, who was his own nephew, that 
they did not speak to each other the whole time they w'ere out. 

“ And xvhcu the latter discovered the North Pole by the inflex of the magnetic needle, 
he kept his secret until he returned to England, and his uncle learnt the first news of 
this important discovery, made by the vessel under his own command, from the public 
newspapers. 

“ The admiral told me he should never forget seeing a star on the ninth of August. It 
was early for oue to appear, and he was not looking for it. 

“The Esquimaux are intelligent people, the women more so than the men, which 
seems caused by the fact that the xvomen do all the work. The men certainly kill 
the game, but that is all; the xvomeu have to haul it home and cut it up. At these 
times, when they hare plenty of food, the men think of nothing but gorging themselves. 
They eat until they cannot help themselves, xvhen their xvives come and do it for them. 
They stuff the amiable husband’s mouth full of some delicacy, which is cut oft' close to 
the lips. When they perceive that time and exertion have caused its absorption, they 
fill the mouth again, and so on, until nature intercedes, and refuses more. Then sleep 
comes to the rescue. 

“ The Esquimaux xvomen picked up the English language with great quickness, and 
one of them made a map of the coast that xvas surprisingly correct. 

“Many and great as were their dangers, it is yet characteristic of all Arctic voyagers 


88 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


that they remembered God Avas greater. From the first beginning of Arctic voyagers 
in the Tudor reigns, they Avere as remarkable for extraordinary courage and endurance, 
as for the simple and cliildlike piety that Ave could not fail to notice in the hero Avho 
has just left us. On one occasion especially they had as clearly the signs before them 
of a certain death gradually approaching, as a man Avho is ascending the steps of a 
ladder to be hanged. 

“ The ship had been driven by a current that bore them along irresistibly, at the rate 
of six miles an hour, towards a dangerous bay, where the ice was breaking up into 
great floes, which A\xrc being piled up one upon another, Avith a poAver nothing could 
Avithstand. It is at these periods that there is fearful danger of a ship being nipped 
between tAVO of these masses or bergs. Should the current that Avas propelling the 
ship also drive them, only the greater poAver of God could prevent the frail Avooden 
home of the Arctic mariners being crushed like a nut betAveen them. They saw before 
them two bergs, AA^hich never lost their position Avith the ship ; this shoAA’ed they were 
being driven at the same rate. Yet such Avas their course, they were gradually nearing 
each other. Not the most ignorant sailor on board but neAV the ship Avas racing either 
to deliA’erance or certain death. 

“ For more than an hour this suspense continued, until hope had Amnished from the 
most sanguine heart. IlaAVsers AA^ere throAvn out, boats Avere manned to retard their 
progress, all seemed in vain. One berg touched them — Avith frightful impetus, it 
drove them against the other. By the mercy of God, this swayed, rocked, heaved, and, 
falling over on the other side, forced the ship, by the impetus of its plunge, safe over 
the fatal channel, into a fair and smooth breadth of Avater. But the copper covering to 
the bottom of the vessel hung like shreds of worsted, or Avas rolled up like tissue 
paper. 

“ The poAA^er of the currents in those seas must be tremendous. Bound and confined 
by icy manacles that are mightier than themselves for ten months of the year, they re- 
venge themselves AA'hen freedom comes. What sport they make of the ice that Avas 
their master ! They roll him up in mountainous blocks, piling up masses that Avould 
serA'e for ranges of hills. They form him into fantastic shapes, tlicy split him into 
pillars and columns, until fancy is cheated into believing one sees the domes, the fair 
tOAvers, the pinnacled turrets, and tapering steeples of a large cathedralled town. If 
he lies smooth and deep, as thick as the crust of the earth, as strong as adamant, still 
a subtile, mysterious poAver rends him from end to end, tears him into shreds, drives 
him as it Avere to the very confines of earth. Then is this rigid, dismal, gloomy Avaste 
turned into a garden of beauty and loAmliness. Verdure leaps forth as if by magic. 
The air has a delicious balm in it — a freshness and purity that nothing in art or nature, 
nothing but itself, can be likened to it. An immortal elixir, quafled by the angels in 
paradise, can alone express its power and virtue. Flowers spring forth under its influ- 
ence, AA'ith the hues and loveliness of an ethereal Avorld. The living flowers, the butter- 
flies, sport in the rosy air, colored with gorgeous hues of the most surpassing brilliancy. 
Tufts of moss spring up like emerald gems, Avhile birds flock from every quarter, filling 
the heretofore dead silent air Avith a thousand A'oices of happiness and life. The sun 
arrays himself in perpetual splendor, painting the noAV beautiful Avorld with the love- 
liest hues, and, as if content Avith his Avork, he never AvithdraAVS night or day from the 
contemplation of it. 

“ But like the scene in a play, it seems as if this beautiful summer lasted but a feAV 
hours. It is as a dream, gone before realized — folloAved by a long night, Avhere the 
soul has to fight Avith the demons of sloth and apathy. 

“ In imagining myself in the Arctic regions, I have reflected AAdiat means I should 
adopt to keep within me, pure and strong, the SAveet springs of kindly affection, the 
energy of a AA’arm heart, the gay spirit of a sunny nature. In a Avord, I tried to picture 
to myself how the admiral employed himself through that long night of almost solitary 
confinement, so as to emerge from it animated, vivacious, happy. For the captain of a 
ship, by some etiquette that may not be infringed, has no companion. He is supreme, 
but he pays the penalty of an exalted position by being alone. Thus he dAvelt in those 
desolate regions more solitary than the hermit in his cell, or the eagle on his crag. For 
the^ one was visited by de\'otees, and the other Avould survey the AA'orld beloAV from his 
eyrie. He Avas not only alone, but burdened Avith an aAATul responsibility. EA'ery order 
he issued bore with it almost life or death to the lives under his command. Every step 
he took brought him face to face with perils that might daunt the most courageous 
heart. Condemned by circumstances to lead a life thought by the over-merciful to be 
too rigorous for our Avorst criminals, he yet Avas accountable for a duty the most ardu- 
ous and hazardous ever given to mortals. 

“ It is a life such as this that makes men turn to supernatural poAA^er. They feel their 
OAvn iusufliciency ; they crave sympathy and encouragement. There is but one being 
who can give it — they turn to God. Surrounded by scenes that compel them to believe 
in some mighty agency — guided to life and safety by the unerring course of a star — 
the matchless regularity of the moon, and the simple, but unutterable laAvs of nature, 


89 


“luff it is.” 

meu in tlie Arctic regions meet the Lord at every turn they take. They bless Him daily 
for daily deliverance; they praise Him hourly for unnumbered blessings, and worship 
Him every time they raise their eyes, for ‘ His wonderful works.’ 

“I think he of wdiose Arctic experience I am writing is one of those beings who, 
like Abraham, proved his knowledge of God by faith. 

“ He ‘ trusted that he would deliver him.’ 

“So God was his friend, and talked with him. God was his counsellor, comforter, 
brother. Over the ice, through the snow, in awful solitude, in fearful straits, in perils, 
in difficulties, in the sight of death, he walked Avith God. In that long night of dark- 
ness and inaction God beneficently communed with His servant. 

“Need we wonder that, on emerging from it, a glory of hope, of happiness, of faith, 
shone in his eyes, and has remained there ever since.” 

“ Your inference is excellent, Clara. The admiral gives me the idea of having so 
lived, that he has nothing to fear from God or man. With great simplicity of charac- 
ter, he adds the greater determination to do his duty. Thus he is never overcome by 
the weaknesses, temptations, waywardnesses of erring human nature.” 

“Your judgment must be correct, Mrs. Joscelyn, for his companion told me various 
anecdotes and traits of his friend, that prove your Avords to be true. At the same time, 
he seemed to imply that he told them to me in confidence, so I did not feel myself jus- 
tified in Avriting them down. At the same time, there can be no reason Avhy I should 
not relate them to you.” 

After Clara had done so, and they had all expressed their pleasure, — 

“ I shall certainly erect the admiral on the topmost pinnacle of my favor. Evermore 
he shall be the hero I shall worship,” quoth Kate. 

“ Gossip, you are in the right on’t. Kegarded as a man who turned from the path of 
fame to follow that of duty, you could not crown a more worthy hero.” 

“ I knoAv nothing about Arctic affairs,” pleaded Mrs. Spooner. “ What did he go for? 
— and Avhose were the missing ships ? ” 

Such an amount of ignorance startled our ladies into exclamations of such vehemence, 
Mrs. Spooner AA^as oflended. 

“ I am not like some people, always reading the newspapers to find out shocking 
things — Avife-beatiugs, and murders, and suicides, and poisonings, and all that. I read 
Avhat Augustus calls the ‘ Hatch, Match, and Dispatch ’ column, and also the fashions ; 
and perhaps a divorce case, if it is not very bad. But I think women have no business 
to meddle Avith politics and public affairs.” 

“ But ev'cn I kuoAV about the good Sir John Eranklin, Avho Avent for the honor of his 
country, to discover the north- Avest passage, and that he died at his post of duty, on the 
11th of June, .1847.” 

“ That is all very well, Bessie ; some people may know one thing and some another. 
Now, I have no more idea of hoAV much cold they endured, than I had before Clara ex- 
plained it — how can I tell Avhat mercury feels ? ” 

There was a laugh. 

Alas ! that human nature can least bear to be laughed at. 

“ And,” as Mrs. Joscelyn said, “just as they w^ere all so moved and interested in Clara’s 
reading, their hearts all soft and tender ! ” The sudden change Avas like the return of 
night, after the beautiful arctic summer. 

The truth must be told. The ladies came to words, there was a quarrel, there were 
tears, there AA'as a burst of passionate invectives. 

During this outburst, Mrs. Spooner announced for certain, what had been before only 
suspected, that she had never been properly educated. In other Avords, she was not 
only an ignorant person, but rather delighted in being ignorant, that is, if one might 
judge by the little pains she took to make herself any better. But to be laughed at for 
it was quite a difierent affair. 

“ Laughed.at, indeed ! by a girl avIio had gone about the Avorld in rags, and had for 
her relations people Avho were not gentlefolks ! She, Mrs. Spooner, Avas very different.” 

“If one is estimated,” retaliated the haughty Clara, “ according to such tests, I re- 
joice in my rags, and am proud of my relatives.” 

“ And so do I for you,” echoed an indignant little gossip, flushed Avith ardor for the 
fight in defence of her beloved Clara. 

It is a certain fact that the quarrels of the female sex are generally of such a sort, the 
less said about them the better. 

It sufficed that in half an hour Mrs. Joscelyn sat alone in the saloon of her palace. 
Bessie had been sent to bed at the first onset. 

Clara had Avalked off’ in stately dudgeon, but she suffered more from wounded vanity 
than from the Avords of Mrs. Spooner ; she had taken such pains Avith her arctic paper 
— she had been anticipating, as is natural in a young author, a meed of praise — she 
had even looked forAvard to a second reading of her essay — and noAV behold ! Proba- 
bly, to keep the peace, she must never more mention its existence. To avoid a quarrel, 
she must be as careful as in the very arctic regions themselves. She had loved the 
12 


90 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


subject on wliicb slie had written. Her fine enthusiastic nature made her understand 
the life of the arctic vcyagers, and, in uuderstanding, she had identified herself with 
it. Thus she may be pardoned if her heart in the matter suffered from the rude shock 
caused by an unseemly quarrel. The vanity of authors is (alas ! poor souls) a part of 
their bein^. 

There is the love of mothers for their offspring, of a wife for her husband, of the 
lover for his beloved, but iioue of these equals the adoration of an author for the child, 
the wife, the love of his brain. He knows it can have no other parent ; he is the only 
spouse, no lover can claim a prior right, he is the sole being responsible for its beau- 
ties or its fiiults. Without being vain, but with a tender, parental, fond care over his 
work, all the more because it is an orphan without him, he watches over, guards, loves, 
and protects his literary oflspring; he mourns over it, as over a dead child, if unsuc- 
cessful; he rejoices and is jubilant if a modicum of praise is accorded to it. Poor au- 
thors ! few but themselves know the throes, the heart-burnings, the pangs, the fears 
that assail them when they send forth, into a criticizing and unfeeling world, the child 
which has been delivered from their brain with such infinite care and labor ! 

But to return to Clara. She had a fine mind, she felt the indignity of having her lofty 
thoughts thrust aside for such folly — yes, such folly ! She was angry with herself for 
answering Mrs. Spooner’s little spits of wrath. She could not forgive herself, so she 
stalked off to bed, her nose in the air, her back like a ramrod. And the dear, little, 
wilful rose-bud, all a-glowing with indignation and dripping with tears, went with 
her. 

Mrs. Spooner was hysterical. 

“ I — I w — will g — go to Au — Augustus to-morrow! He — he will t — take c — care I 
— I — I am not insul — suit — suited ! ” 

Thus she sobbed, and also went to bed. 

The fact of the matter was that they had all said a great deal more than they 
intended. 

As Mrs. Joscelyn sat perplexed and alone, she naturally thought a good deal of her 
own position. 

Having vaunted once or twice openly, and a great deal more than that, privately, to 
herself, that they should certainly win the challenge, she reckoned that it would be more 
her fault than that of her companions if they did not do so. She was quite alive to her 
own powers of entertaining and endurance ; she had meant to devote herself to her com- 
panions, and she was so far perfectly correct in thinking that few were more fitted for 
such a tax than herself. 

She had every confidence in her own powers. But here was a state of things that had 
nothing to do with her at all — that arose out of the merest accident, and, from a begin- 
ning of nothing, threatened to annihilate every hope she had, and sweep away from 
under their very feet every hope of winning. 

She was a just woman, and began her cogitations to herself by acknowledging that 
she deserved a rebuff. Having atoned to her conscience, she began to cast about in her 
mind how she could smooth matters ; in what way she could so beguile her companions, 
that they might meet in the morning with some show of peace and forgiveness. 

There was Clara. Mrs. Joscelyn shook her head to herself, as she thought over the 
probability of making Clara put forth the first show of penitence. 

Clara was one of those good creatures who cannot compromise in any way. If she 
thought Mrs. Spooner had been in the wrong, nothing would persuade her even to mol- 
lify that fact. She would, in her magnanimous fashion, say, — 

“ Of course I forgive and will forget everything, but you were in the wrong.” 

Now, with regard to the amiable A. S., there was no doubt about it, if ever so 
wrong, she must be treated as if the injured party — she must be “soothered” over. 
This must be accorded her, because she is one of those whom Solomon describes as 
unanswerable. 

“ She was a silly woman, but,” as Mrs. Joscelyn acknowledged to herself, “ it is more 
difficult to manage a fool than a wise woman. Suppose I did the disagreeable work of 
flattering her into good humor, all my efforts will be useless. Clara alone can adminis- 
ter the balm that will allay her irritation. I must say it is very provoking, and I heart- 
ily wish I had never trusted our characters, our chance of winning, in her hands. It is 
against my principles to persuade Clara to act a part, or say what she does not think, 
therefore I fear I must give the matter up. If a grain of sense returns to Arabella be- 
fore the morning, we may weather this storm yet ; but if not, then we lose the chal- 
lenge, and for a quarrel that is only less, silly, because it is more provoking. 

Mrs. Joscelyn took care to be up early ; in fact, though the last to go to bed, she was 
the first to make her appearance. 

Kate came down with her rosy lips pursed, her dainty little head bearing itself airily 
high, her hands pertly seated in the pockets of her apron, and her heels almost two 
inches from the ground. 


“luff it is.” 91 

“ Good morning, aunt,” says slie, witL an assurance that foreboded awful things from 
Clara, and poking her face towards her aunt to be kissed. 

“ I do not kiss noses,” said Mrs. Joscel^m, gravely. 

“ I beg your pardon, auntie,” murmured the little thing, immediately meek as a 
mouse ; and withdrawing her hands from her pockets, she put up her mouth beseech- 
ingly- 

“Now, Kate, I desire j'-ou to be forbearing and good; for if you don’t help me, 
Arabella will go home, send for her husband, and we shall lose the challenge.” 

“ I won’t have my gossip insulted. I will lose the challenge rather than that ! ” 

“ Oh ! very well ; since such is your decision, go off and milk your cow, and don’t let 
me see you again for an hour.” 

“Very well, auntie,” and the little maiden departed with a demure smile on her face, 
and the kitten on her shoulder. 

All the challenges in the world might be lost before she would be untrue to her first 
love. For it very often happens that the first phase of that channing feeling in a 
young girl’s heart, begins by a devoted and magnanimous adoration of one of her own 
sex. Too timid, or too innocent, to permit the budding feeling to expend itself upon a 
man, she has no scruple in pouring out all the wealth of her heart upon another girl; 
and how warm, spontaneous, true, is that sweet love ! 

Mrs. Joscelyn loved her little petulant Kate more than ever, though she had lost her 
as an ally. 

Arabella appeared next upon the scene of action; she was jerky in manner, restless 
in mood, and altogether seemed in that nervous state that portended a fit of crying. 
But she kissed Mrs. Joscelyn afibctionately, she kissed Bessie with ardor, and she ran 
to meet Kate, laden with things for breakfast, all eagerness — kissing her with great 
fervor, notwithstanding that Kate looked at her out of her great large eyes with a sort 
of amused astonishment. 

“ Now,” thought Mrs. Joscelyn to herself, “ I can see that Arabella is rather ashamed 
of herself, and wants to make it up. All depends upon Clara. The Heavens permit 
that she may be at least forbearing — here she comes ! ” 

Enter Clara, with a run and a spring, as if she had been Kate or Bessie. 

“ Gracious goodness ! to think of my being so late ! Good morning. Mamma 
Joscelyn — good morning, dear Mrs. Spooner — good morning, Bessie. Now see what 
I am going to do — I am going to burn this horrid thing that caused us all to quarrel 
last night,” and pop upon the fire went the Arctic MS. 

“Oh! oh! oh I” shrieked the little gossip. 

Heedless creature ; she rushes forward, she- snatches the Arctic MS. out of the fire, 
she rolls it in her apron to extinguish the fiames, she forgets her apron is only made 
of muslin. There is a fiare, a sudden great flame, a fizzing, a scream, a scufile. 

Mrs. Joscelyn has pulled her down on to the floor, and enveloped her in a great shawl. 
In one minute was she in danger and out of it. 

“ See I ” she exclaims, as they help her up safe, but not uuscorched ; “ I have it safe ! ” 
and she holds up the MS., scarcely injured. She has defined in her sweet girl-love the 
treasure it was to her, and does not seem to care for the danger from which she has 
been so mercifully preserved, so that it is safe. 

Now Mrs. Spooner has a right to cry, but it is for joy, that the darling girl is safe. 
Clara is pale with anguish and fright, and kisses the little rash thing in agony. 

Mrs. Joscelyn applies a little cream to the ear slightly scorched, and the corner of an 
eyebrow. 

“ My child,” observes Mrs. Joscelyn, tenderly, “you have had a naiTOw escape —you 
are fairly scorched all down this side.” 

“ I thought there was a great smell of roast meat.” 

But Mrs. Joscelyn reproves her for levity, and calling Susan, opens the prayer-book 
for their morning prayers. She is deeply moved, her voice falters, the tears are run- 
ning down her cheeks as she thanks God for a great deliverance. 

TJiey know she is not easily moved to tears ; they feel as she feels ; a deep awe of 
gratitude fills their hearts ; they rise from their knees subdued and trembling, but most 
loving to each other. 

So ended that famous quarrel. 

Nothing more was ever heard of it, not even when Clara was requested to read her 
MS. once more, thus realizing her hopes. 

“ You have a knack of writing, Clara; suppose you compose a story for our amuse- 
ment.” 

“I will try; but meantime, my gossip and I were talking about dififetent historical 
characters that we admired, and we thought it would be rather amusing to act and 
speak, as we think they would have acted and spoken.” 

“ I think the idea novel. Do you mean us to select your characters, or will you do it 
yourselves ? ” 


92 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“We will choose the first set, because we shall wish to make the experiment by our- 
selves at first.” 

“ Shall we have one to-night?” 

“ We will try. It depends upon my little gossip’s burns.” 

“ Oh ! they are mending fast, and if I never get any more eyelashes on this eye, 
people can easily see by the other that I had some once. Then when they hear the tale 
I shall be quite a Little heroine.” 

“ Quite a little goose,” responded her aunt; “I have not recovered the shock yet. 
It is strange that you are more giddy than ever, instead of being subdued.” 

“I am upheld, auntie, by the consciousness of having saved that valuable ” 

“ Will you dare to mock me, unkind gossip; as if the most valuable MS. in creation 
was equal to your life.” 

“ Upon ray word, you fiatter me ; Milton’s Paradise Lost, or one of Shakespeare’s ” 

“Hush! my dear children; I cannot bear any flippancy regarding that terrible 
moment.” 

“I Avish, said Bessie, hearing a falter in her mother’s voice, “that you girls would 
act something out of the ‘Arabian Nights.’ Now, do try the story of the ‘Singing 
Tree,’ the ‘ Talking Bird,’ and the ‘ Golden Water! ’ ” 

“ And where are we to obtain those wonderful things. Miss Bessie ? ” 

“ Mamma told me I was to interpret the story allegorically. Don’t you think you 
can help me ? ” 

“ Well, sit down, and let us try. Here Ave are, seated under the shade of the largest 
tree in the island, by way of helping us to solve the riddle. Listen, Bessie ; dou’t you 
hear it singing?” 

“ I hear the Avind rustling through the upper branches, yet there is no breath of air 
down here to stir my hair.” 

“ Then the tree is singing. This is nature’s music ; and there comes on the soft wings 
of the wind a Ioav chorus murmured by the sea; together, they fill the air Avith a soft 
pleasant sound.” 

“ So they do ! And after all, I am as fortunate as the princess ; I can have a singing 
tree, Avherever there is a tree.” 

“ Very true, Bessie. It is useless to long and cry for what we have not got ; it is best 
to go and seek for it, or for something like it.” 

“ But the talking bird, mamma — I am sure Clara can never show me how to obtain 
such a wise creature.” 

“ Why, Bessie, can you make nests like the birds? — can you poise yourself on agile 
wings and fiy through the air as they do ? They can do Avhat you cannot, and, hark ! 
hoAV they talk to each other ! — ‘ Twit ! twit ! ’ says the little cock sparroAV ; and if you 
watch you will see that, as soon as he says this, doAvn comes his Avife, doAvn come all 
the children, and they all begin to eat. Papa SparroAV looks out, he sees some one 
coming! ‘TAvee! twee! tAvit!’ and aAvay they all go like little myths. You may 
watch the birds all day, and ahvays discover something wise and curious about them. 
And no Avonder, because God was their teacher.” 

“Allegorically considered,” ansAvered Bessie, sententiously. “ I Avill alloAv that will 
do for the talking-bird. At all events, I had better be contented with your vieAV of the 
matter, as I am not likely to have any other. And how about the golden water, the 
least drop of which cast anywhere, increases into a great fountain? ” 

“Ah! Bessie,” ansAvered Clara, “can you not find for the golden water the most 
beautiful of all similes ? The least drop, as you say, poured anyAvhere, increases to the 
utmost volume, might fill all space, yet never overfioAvs to destruction. This is the 
water of baptism, or the spring of religion. Pour the merest drop into the heart, and 
it fills it with a fountain of living waters. Only sin, evil, and perverseness can dry it 
up ; and even then it has but to be cleared of one pebble, AA^hen it Avill burst forth again, 
pure, fresh, and sweet as ever. The golden water is near at hand to us all ; we have 
but to stretch out a hand, to open the mouth, and we are blessed Avith it ! ” 

“I like that,” murmured Bessie, with a gloAv in her eyes; “the allegory of the 
golden Avater is the most beautiful of all. Thank you, dear Clara ; hoAv happy the 
Avorld seems to me, noAv that I perceive I may go out into it, and meet everyAvhere the 
singing tree, and the talking bird, but, above all things, that I have the golden water 
in my heart ! I Avill try, mamma, never to let the spring be dried up through any sin 
or naughtiness. It shall ahvays be fiowing and bright.” 

“ Please God, Bessie,” suggested her mother. 

“ Yes, please God,” ansAvered Bessie, fervently. 

This kind of conversation did not come amiss to the ladies, who were still under the 
iufiuence of Kate’s narroAv escape. 

The boat from Deep-Clifis had come and gone Avith their different matters. There 
had been no excitement about its arrival, and there Avere no orders for its return 
before that day week, Avhich Avould be a Tuesday. 

It had been settled that the gentlemen should have their fresh stores and linen on 


“luff it is.” 93 

Mondays, and the ladies on Tuesdays, because it was inconvenient to visit both islands 
the same day. 

As Susan brought away the last package from the boat, Mrs. Joscelyn perceived an 
unusual visitant on her face, namely, a smile. 

“ What has happened, Susan? ” 

“ They be uncommon dull at Puff, mum.” 

“ How do you know that ? ” 

“ The boatmen, mum, says as how master have ordered ’em to come twice a-week, 
Instid of onny once. And they wor a-arsking me, mum, if we was a-wanting ’em to 
cum a bit oftener ’wesels.” 

“ What did you answer, Susan? ” 

“ I tuk the liberty o’ sayin, mum, ‘ No,’ I says, ‘ we ain’t a- wantin’ noffln, much 
obleeged, and if so bees as the meat ’ud keep sweet, we shouldn’t be a- wantin’ on ye at 
all,’ I says ; because, mum, I’d do the washin’, I ’ood, and I’d larn the ladies hironing ! ” 

“ Susan, did you happen to ask the boatmen if Mr. Spooner was well — quite well? ” 
I didn’t fur to go fur to hax how he were in especial, mum, but I tuk the liberty of 
'oping master and his friends ’ad their ’elth, mum.” 

“ And what — what was the answer, Susan? ” 

“ They be all uncommen well in their ’elths, mum, but they doesn’t seem so well in 
their minds, mum.” 

“ Good heavens ! suppose Augustus is fretting? ” 

“ I hope he is, Arabella, for your sake ; but do not let us ask any more questions of 
Susan — I hardly think it is fair.” 

“ But surely they have lost the challenge sending for the boat three times a week? ” 

“ We are not supposed to know that; I fancy they will be honorable enough to tell 
us.” 

“ You are far too forbearing, Mrs. Joscelyn.” 

“ I never found that the indulgence of this feeling ever brought me an ill turn. On 
the contrary, it has done me so much good service, I am not tired of practising it.” 

“ But suppose they don’t tell us — will not you? ” 

“No, I think not — all the more because from their habits they ought properly to 
have the boat oftener than ourselves. They want their newspapers, and though gossip 
is supposed to be our peculiar vocation and delight, commend me to a party of gen- 
tlemen to obtain it in perfection. They cannot live without it.” 

Clara and Kate having given notice that they were ready with a scene for that even- 
ing’s entertainment, great excitement ensued. 

It was politely intimated to Susan that she might attend if she liked, to which she 
gracionsly replied, — 

“ That she warn’t quite sure but that she might find a bit o’ time to fool away.” 

Mrs. Spooner, having made various inquiries as to the quality of the guests she was 
about to sec personated — whether they were kings and queens, lords and ladies, milk- 
maids and clowns — came rustling down to tea in her best silk, in honor of the Earl 
and Countess of Nythsdale, for such was the rank of the dramatis personae. 

“The Earl of Nythsdale,” related Clara, “being attainted of high treason by King 
George I., and thrown into the tower with the Earl of Derwentwater and many other 
friends, was expecting the fulfilment of his sentence almost every day. The punish- 
ment for high treason was beheading, with other frightful customs that I need not 
mention. The wives and noble relations of the attainted lords had made every exer- 
tion for a remittance of the sentence. The king was about to shed the richest blood 
of his realm, but neither that nor their submission, nor any future promise, nor any 
compromise, was entertained by the king. He forgot the chief quality of his position, 
namely, mercy. Thus the Countess of Nythsdale was about to visit her lord, perhaps 
for the last time. It is this final scene in the prison between them that we are to try 
and portray for your pleasure.” 

Mrs. Joscelyn. — “Very true. Let me compliment you on the due appreciation you 
have shown of two such noble characters, each so different of their kind.” 

Bessie. — “Do — do let us have some more, it was so short ! ” 

Kate. — “ We have another nearly ready, but we shall require your help, Bessie.” 

Bessie. — “ Oh ! how delightful ! ” 

“ What is your next entertainment? ” interrupted Mrs. Joscelyn. 

Clara. — “ ‘ The Exiles of Siberia.’ You are to suppose that Elizabeth has already 
entreated her parents to permit her to take her memorable journey, and that they have 
refused. She is suffering in consequence, so that her father and mother are secretly 
anxious about her. I am to be Stanislaus ; Bessie, on a high chair, elaborately got up 
for the occasion, will be Queen; and Kate is to be the heroine herself.” 

“ Bessie, I presume, has not much to say.” 

“ Oh ! mamma, why? I feel brimfbl of ‘ says.’ ” 

“ You shall not be silent, I promise you, Bessie. Now, please to allow us ten min- 
utes for preparation.” 


94 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


When the screen was Jrawn aside, the appearance of the queen, knowing who rep- 
resented her, was really startling. To suppose that the round, rosy-faced Bessie had 
been changed into a digniflcd, pale, mourning queen, was almost too much for Mrs. 

» Joscclyu’s risible faculties, much as she desired to be grave. It ought to be recorded 
of the newl3"-made queen, that she abated not one jot of her dignity and reserve, though 
she overheard the exclamations of the audience. 

Stainslaus leaned against and behind her chair, which was a convenient situation, as 
the petticoats he was obliged to wear could not be seen. 

“ Very well done, Bessie,” said Mrs. Joscelyn. “ I am proud of you ! ” 

“ Oil! ” blushed Bessie, “ Clara wrote out what I was to say.” 

“ Well, it was very pretty, I must say, though I don’t think I was so much moved as 
with the first one. Really, how clever they are, Mrs. Joscelyn ! But, Kate, you did 
not make Elizabeth joyful enough.” 

“That was my advice,” said Clara; “the strongest feelings are generally least dis- 
plaj^ed. Elizabeth has shown her disappointment by silent suffering, and she now re- 
joiced with silent ecstasy. The strength of her character was so great, as well as the 
power of her affections, that there could be no doubt of her joy. Also her father was 
a king. The royal daughter did not forget the reticence that belongs to royalty.” 

“ Oh ! don’t bother me any more with your fine idea ! ” said Mrs. Spooner. “ I know 
nothing about royal doings — or men’s doings, indeed ! ” 

“And yet Pope, in giving us the only praise he can, says we owe it to a mixture of 
the manly character. 

* And yet believe me, good as well as ill. 

Woman’s at best a contradiction still — 

Heaven, when it strives to polish all it can, 

• Its last best work but makes a softer man.’ ” 

“ How unjust, Mrs. Joscelyn ! Why don’t you tell that Pope, the next time you see 
him, that there never was anything so untrue ! ” 

“ There is one thing that has struck me as very strange,” answered Mrs. Joscelyn, 
quickly, “ and that is, how this little wilful wild Kate should be enabled to act such 
tender scenes. I thought all her talents lay in the gleeful line.” 

“ Which is so nice ! ” exclaimed Bessie — “I love to be merry and mischievous.” 

“ Miss Bessie ! ” exclaimed one or two. 

“ I cannot help it, pleaded Bessie — “lam just like pa.” 

Mrs. Joscelyn could not help laughing, and they tried to extract from Bessie her defi- 
nition of mischief, as caught from the squire. Meantime, Clara was teasing her gossip. 

“ I own you surprised me, for, as your aunt says, I fancied lively matters would suit 
you best. Do you know, I think it must be all owing to the Arctic regions ? ” 

“E'f tu, Brute ?” was the answer. 

Which was. considered unanswerable. 

Thus did our ladies spend their time. If they were not very wise — if they laughed 
at little things — if they were easily amused, and spent their .evenings like children, 
at least it was all very innocent. 

“ Ah 1 wretched, and too solitary she, 

Who loves not her own company,” 


was their motto. 

Fortunately they had very fine weather, and in addition to catering for the cveninfr’s 
amusement, they employed a good deal of their time in tiying to make a "arden 

The old herring man had brought them some implements, and they^had ordered 
seeds and roots to come by the boat on the following Tuesday. They had plenty to do 
in making walks, forming rockeries, and transplanting ferns. There could be nothin" 
very lively in their lives, for there was no great two-funnelled “Cannibal” to excite 
their interest ; they were accustomed to the visits of the herring man, audit pleased 
Mrs. Spooner to be in an excellent and unexcitable humor. 

^ Thus the days went by so calmly and smoothly, they hardly knew how time was £ro- 
mg; and it must be confessed that even Mrs. Joscelyn felt the effects of their quiet 
life, and was in that dosy comfortable state out of which it is so difficnlt to rouse one’s 
self. So the second Sunday came round, and as they arrayed themselves in their silk 
dresses and bonnets, they save a few sighs to the remembrance of the precedin" Sun- 
day, now separated from this one in their memories by a very sad space. 

The boatmen caine at nine as before, and providing themselves with tablets to write 
down some of the inscriptions on the tombstones, and luncheon, they once more left 
Luff to take care of itself, and took boat for Exe church. 


PUFF ! PUFF ! 


95 


CHAPTER XIII. 

PUFF ! PUFF ! 

Sus-\n’s information about tbe gentlemen was not quite true. The boat was ordered 
to come every other day to Puff, so delightful was the sensation of seeing it arrive 
on the Monday week of their sojourn on the island. 

And, indeed, they had reason to welcome it. 

Their provisions all gone, the hospitable “Cannibal” in the act of steaming away, 
they were absolutely nervous as to the fear of starvation. When the squire shouted 
out the fact that the boat was on its way they all rushed down to meet it. 

One asked impatiently for the letters and newspapers, another for any news, a third 
was curious as to what provisions had come, and, it was evident to the boatmen, chat, 
whether the gentlemen were tired of Puff or not, they greeted them very much as if 
they were so. 

Their excitement being a little cooled down, the squire was enabled to express his 
gratification at a basket of provisions sent from Deep-Cliffs, that was really delightful 
to behold. It seemed as if the house-keeper had been inspired, just to send her master 
those delicacies that he most affected. 

A home-made the receipt for which shall be handsomely presented to the public 
and my dear reader gratis, was reposing between a ham ready dressed and a beautiful 
piece of pressed beef. The half of a Stilton cheese, a quantity of fresh eggs, and a 
bottle of cream, were among the contents of the basket. 

The squire longed to begin his breakfast over again. 

It was the sight of the cream that first suggested the idea of having the boat over 
every other day. They found, did our fine gentlemen, that, insupportable as life was 
without leave to smoke, it was even more wretched deprived of cream. 

“ By the by. Prank,” remarked King Crab, as they were settling what should be for 
dinner, and gloating over all their gastronomic treasures, “ where is the sirloin of 
beef on which we were to have dined yesterday ? ” 

“Where, indeed!” answered Prank, “it is these extraordinary puff rats. That 
piece of beef has been eaten by them, bones and all.” 

“Now that is too bad! What on earth were those lazy idiots about that they did 
not look after it ? ” 

“I hoped they had eaten it, but Sam declares his Sunday feasting consisted of 
nothing but bread and cheese.” 

“ Sam is the greatest ” 

“ Or Scruttles the greatest — thief,” interrupted Prank. 

“ Now, Summers, how can you say so? What good can it do that poor fellow to 
steal anything here ? ” 

“ Of whom are you speaking? ” interposed the squire. 

He was told. 

“ Humph ! that accounts, I think, for a remarkable bundle I saw Scruttles give one of 
the boatmen. I was curious to know whom it w’as for, and was rather pleased to find 
out that that old friend of yours. Crab, is really his mother. Said he to the boatmen, 
‘Please let .my old mother hev my duds for washin’ and bring ’em back.’ I also re- 
marked what an astonishing bundle it was, considering Scruttles has never changed a 
single garment that I can discover since he has been here.” 

“ Go on, squire — yes, go on. Take away the poor fellow’s character, just as I have 
given him a chance to recover it.” 

“ I do not desire to do so, by any means. God forbid that I should take away any 
man’s character, provided he has got one, which I do not think — however, I beg your 
pardon. Crab ; I will say no more.” 

“ You have said quite enough,” was the grumpy answer. 

That evening, looking carefully round to see that their king was not in sight, the 
squire confided the rest of his secret opinion regarding Scruttles to Spooner and 
Prank, being of that disposition, that, if he had an idea on any subject, he must deliver 
himself of it some how. 

“ My opinion is that he stole the beef,” he remarked as sotto wee as he could. 

“My opinion, also,” said Spooner. 

“ I know it,” added Prank, “ for I saw him do it.” 

“ Why in the w^orld did you not say so. Prank? ” 

“ Where was the good? Crabshawe will fight the whole of us sooner than give up 
his beloved convict. He is a regular thief Don’t you see that I always lock the doors 
of your rooms when we leave the house at any time ? ” 

“ And I wanted to do the man some good! I gave him live shillings, Prank.” 


96 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“Did you, squire? It certainly was the only way to his heart.” 

“ But what are we to do ? ” exclaimed Spooner; “now that the boat is coming so 

often, he will steal everything.” ^ 

“Oh! leave me to settle that matter. I dont think he^ will venture to send any 
more bundles to his dear mamma, after a little hint I shall give him.” 


Truly it was a hint. 

Just as Scruttles placed upon the dinner-table a tureen of soup, all the gentlemen 
being seated ready to dine, and more than ready, because they had had no luncheon, 
Erank said in his coolest manner, — ^ 

“ Scruttles, the next time you send a bundle to your mother, I must take the liberty 
of seeing whether, by accident, you have not got amongst yours some of ray pocket- 
handkerchiefs. I have told the boatman to open it, or leave it behind.” 

Scruttles made a hideous grimace, as he answered, in a most abject manner, — 

“ Certingly, sir; but I mostly thinks has mother ’ool send me a change, vich is hall I 
wants, sir, Mr. Summers, axing your paroling, sir.” 

“ I am glad you have a change,” remarked Sir George. 

“ IIo, yes. Sir Folly, axing ver parding. I ’ave a change, thank you. Sir Folly. 

As for the squire, all his interest in the “excellent convict” was gone. IIis five 
shillings had been thrown away. Not that ho regretted them, 'he simply had a rooted 
repugnance to a thief and a liar. He would rather Scruttles had knocked him down — 
infra dif}^ though it was. He hated the sight of him. 

Fortunately the weather was beautifully fine, and they were out deep-sea fishing 
from morning until night. Once or twice they went within a few hundred yards of 
Luff. On one occasion they were startled (shall we say entranced?) by hearing bursts 
of silvery laughter coming pealing over the water, straight into their boat. 

As long as their cooked provisions lasted they fared well — at least, in comparison 
with the week before. . . 

And now the dawn of the second Sunday broke upon the Puffites. They decided to 


go to church. 

The squire came down to breakfast, dressed, for the second time since he had been 
on the island, as a gentleman. The consciousness of looking well, of his clothes fitting 
faultlessly, of his general appearance being remarkably pleasant, is as agreeable to the 
feelings of the male species as any amount of finery to the vainest woman living. 

The squire was in high good-humor with himself, and he showed it. He ate an ex- 
cellent breakfast — a feat he excelled in, but this morning he outdid himself. His 
place at the breakfast table presented quite an array of dlhns. 

After breakfast was over, he became very impatient to go to church, and walked 
about with his hat in his hand and a large prayer-book under his arm, in a manner that 
must have been most edifying to his companions. 

Mr. Spooner was a little indifferent about his dress, the boat, and the going to 
church. He parted his hair on one side in an absent mood, and he consulted both 
whiskers as to the efl'ect. They were in a state as indifferent as himself, and considered 
it scarcely worth his while to alter it. 

“I shall not see Arabella,” soliloquized this excellent young husband, “so it does 
iK)t much signify. But I must see Grimston ; though it is Sunday, I must get Grimston 
to let me have some tobacco. If I go in at the private door, I daresay he will give me 
leave to hunt the shop for some of the real sort. I need not pay him then, so it won’t 
look like selling.” 

Having settled this matter with his conscience, Mr. Spooner made his appearance at 
breakfast, looking very spruce. Sir George instantly detected the change in the style 
of doing his hair, and pronounced upon it, as fervently as one young lady might tell 
another, “ that she looked a love.” 

Captain Crabshawe announced his intention of not going to church. 

“ Why it was necessary to go to church to say one’s prayers, was enough to puzzle 
the brains of an elephant.” 

It is supposed that Captain Crabshawe thought that brains are doled out to men and 
animals according to their sizes, without reference to the amount of sense developed. 

Just as they were shoving off, he changed his mind, and, muttering his intention of 
going to his lodgings to get another coat (an intention warmly greeted by his com - 
panions), he took his place among them. Sam was already seated in the bow of the 
boat, as elaborately dressed as his master. 

The squire, greatly against the grain, as it was his endeavor to ignore Scruttles as 
much as possible, yet thought it his duty to give him the option of" attending to the 
welfare of his soul, if he wished it. King Crab scouting the notion. Scuttles solemnly 
agreed with liim. 

“ I knows nofiin’ about souls — axing yer parding, sir.” 

“ It is time you should,” remarked Frank, who, having more to do with the “ excel- 
lent convict ” than any of the others, took the liberty of giving him advice and repri- 


PUFF ! PUFF ! 


97 


mand ad lib. “ But take care you attend to the dinner, for if it is not ready against our 
return at half-past six o’clock, not one ounce shall you have to eat for two days.” 

Scruttlcs grinned like a gorilla, and then bid the departing boat adieu, with a gambol 
that might have been copied from a lively camel. 

Notwithstanding the squire’s pious care not to go without his prayer-book, he cer- 
tainly had not got it with him. 

“ That is because Elizabeth is not here,” grumbled he, after routing out every one in 
the boat to find it. “I remember now I put it down on the bench when I lit my 
cigar.” 

Eor though they were going to church, there they all were, puffing away at the pipes 
of independence, as they floated over the Avater. 

Now, if my readers suppose that these five gentlemen are speeding away to church, 
inlluenced by the properest feelings of piety and godliness, they think better of them 
than they deserve. 

They did all go to church ; the sweet chimes of the church bells having an effect even 
upon Captain Crabshawe. And our good squire was certainly in earnest. He never 
could do two things at once. If he went to church, ho went to say his prayers, and he 
said them with all his heart. Ilis responses were as loud as the clerk’s, and he sang 
the hymns and the psalms with a vigor and power that led one to suppose he was a 
patent harmonium, or doing duty for one. But in truth the squire at church was a 
goodly sight. Men looked at him, and women too, and as they looked, gathered their 
straying thoughts together, and essayed to pray as fervently. 

Frank Summers, too, remembered “ the hour and the place.” He never entered a 
church wnthout thinking of his gentle, good mother, now a saint in heaven, whose ten- 
der eyes did not flash with so much joy at hearing of the honors he gained at scliool or 
college, as when he told her of the high thoughts burning within him — thoughts of 
God and eternity that made the loving mother feel she and her sou, wnth God's bless- 
ing, might spend that eternity together. Yet did his thoughts stray a little — his eyes, 
following his thoughts, fell upon a certain pew. It was now empty, but how often had 
he gazed on a face and form within that pew, wkich — well, he would think mo more 
of it; but if any one had looked at him at that moment they would have seen a flush 
upon his cheek — a glowing light in his eyes. Frank says his prayers more fervently 
than ever, as if he had need to express gratitude of a peculiar kind to the Almighty 
giver of all good. 

As for Mr. Spooner, his thoughts wandered in so perplexing a manner, we can hardly 
follow them. lie was scarcely seated in his pew, when he saw immediately before him 
a bonnet — almost the fac-simile of the last bonnet in which he had seen iiis Arabella, 
lie was quite nervous for the moment — could it bo she? But only for a moment, for 
an accidental turning of the head, disclosing the profile of an elderly, red-nosed, 
undeniable spinster, roused his indignation. 

‘‘ What business had an old, an ugly woman, to wear a bonnet like his Arabella’s ? 
He^should make a point of requesting Arabella to put her bonnet on the fire when he 
saw her next. He could not permit his wife to wear the same sort of bonnet as Miss 
Smash — certainly not ! ” ’ 

Ills eyes wandering at this moment, caught sight of Grimston. He was glad to see 
Grimston at church. A man who performed his religious duties well would be sure to 
give him good tobacco. Surely there was another bonnet — was Arabella really in 
church after all ? His neighbors right and left were disturbed by Mr. Spooner’s cflbrts 
to sec the face encircled in this bonnet. He was soon convinced it was not his Ar-- 
abclla — a shower of golden ringlets came from beneath it; anon he saw the face. 

This time he was not so indignant, for the face was a very pretty one. Ferhaps he • 
would permit Arabella to keep her bonnet. A vague sort of sadness took possession 
of him as he reproved himself for endeavoring to catch another glimpse of the pretty 
face. What was the greatest beauty in the world now to him ? 

Before he could answer himself, right into his ear came the words, “ Thou art tlie 
man.” He was struck as it were with remorse, and remembered that he had come to 
church for a very different purpose from that which now occupied him. lie therefore 
blew his nose by way of collecting his scattered thoughts, consulted his left whisker, 
and was tolerably attentive for some time, when suddenly he caught sight of the baldi 
head and purple visage of Mr. Muggs, the proprietor of the best hotel in Hampton. 

“ There’s Muggs at church; I have a mind, before we return to Puff, to get Muggs to 
let me have a hot lunch in his private parlor. We have not had a decent thing to eat 
since we have been there.” 

His thoughts were now divided between his religious duties and what he would order 
for luncheon ; and we are afraid the latter predominated over the former. 

As for Sir George, it must be owned he attended church more from a decent habit of. 
propriety than for any good he got by it. He was of that station in society that he was 
elevated on a little hillock above his fellow-men ; so that what he did, and what he did 
not, were more before the eyes of the world than aught pertaining to them. In defeis 
13 


98 


LORDS AND LADIES, 


ence to the expressed opinion of the world, that it was the proper thing to do, to go to 
church two or three times a month, he showed himself in his ancestral pew. It was 
his general habit, on first seating himself therein, to consider how many people would 
be gratified by seeing him at church. Having satisfied himself that these were not a 
few, he would begin to scan his fellow-worshippers all over the church, and settle in 
his own mind who was the prettiest woman in it. Before very long, on this particular 
Sunday, he had come to the conclusion there was not a decent woman among the whole 
female congregation. Far be it from us to insinuate that he was stigmatizing them as 
“no better than they should be; ” a phrase indicative of an awful state of things, yet 
misci'ably obscure, grammatically analyzed. No, he only meant personally. Taken 
personally, there was not a pretty woman in the church. 

“Perhaps,” he thought, “I miss Miss Daintree; certainly there is no one to equal 
her. The man she marries will have ” 

“ Thou art the mau ! ” smote upon his ear. He was startled, and began for the first 
time to pay attention to his religious duties. He felt an unusual degree of softness in 
his heart. 

Miss Daintree rose before his mental vision, clothed in angelic perfections. These 
seemed to increase into full-blown loveliness, when he thought of the famous admiral’s 
encomiums, and the positive outspoken admiration of his friend. Colonel Erne. True, 
one was a sailor — sailors were proverbially enthusiastic upon every pretty face they 
saw. Still, Miss Daiutree was more than a pretty girl ; she had sense, and wit, and a 
thousand sweetnesses. Also, amid all her girlish liveliness, there was a certain dignity, 
or self-respect in her character, that pleased him more than anything. He was a male 
flirt, he acknowledged it. He liked to go to the extremest verge of flirtation with a 
girl, and then draw back. He had something in his nature of the characteristics of the 
spider. He loved to sport with his victims. His heart smote him as he thought of the 
laceration one or two hearts had suflTered through this love of sport. 

Now, much as he had endeavored to lacerate the heart of Miss Daintree, she had 
ne .'•er permitted him to see that he could wound her at all. She was merry and lively 
wheu ho devoted himself to her ; and she was merry and lively when he devoted him- 
self to some other girl, before her very face ! 

This he unconsciously admired in her, though all the time he kept assuring himself 
that he would make her love him, before he finally brought himself to the culminating 
point of asking her to become Lady Follett. For, that she was eventually to be so was 
the cud of all his thoughts ou the subject, even when provoked and irritated by the 
unnecessary advice of Captain Crabshawe. Now, as said before, his heart unusually 
softened, he came to the conclusion she was the more to be beloved because her maiden 
dignity would always prevent her showing her love until assured of his — ergo, he 
would propose to her the first favorable opportunity after the challenge was over. He 
would allow no more Crimean heroes to go hovering about her, and staring at her 
beauty. The future Lady Follett belonged to him and him only. He grew impatient to 
proclaim the right. A whole fortnight more of misery, ennui, starvation ! 

As he thought this, his eyes chanced to fall on the rubicund visage of Mr. Muggs, on 
whose bald pate a sunbeam, with the help of a ray from a painted window, was enact- 
ing all sorts of phosphoric gambols. 

“ INIuggs at church ! Muggs has a good cook — his veal cutlets are excellent ! I think 
I shall order myself a dinner at Muggs’s. Everything at Puff seems, with all Frank’s 
care, to be messed by that dirty beast Scruttles. "l havje no appetite there. Ah ! there 
is Sum — how melancholy and wretched he looks since he has been at Puff! I shall tell 
Sam to go and get a good blow-out, too, whenever he likes.” 

So much for the manner in which Sir George Follett attended to his religious duties. 

As for Captain Crabshawe, the estimation in which he was held by the bulk of man- 
kind, or rather the circle in which he lived, was not such as to make it a matter of a 
moment’s thought what he did with himself on Sundays or other days. Consequently, 
not having a character to keep up like Sir George, he only went to church when it 
pleased liim, and that was very seldom. 

In fact, going to church made him nervous. He had the feelings of a man who knows 
that there is a writ out against him, and that he may be tapped on the shoulder any 
minute, and have it served on him. 

Thus, when the clergyman pronounced so emphatically, “ Thou art the man,” he 
could not help glancing behind him. He wished he were near the door, that he might 
creep out unobserved. How he came to church he did not know, for close, confined 
places always disagreed with him. He felt twinges of rheumatism all over him, besides 
a slight giddiness. Perhaps he had smoked more than was good for him. 

Ah I there was Muggs, his bald head shining out like the knob of a well-polished um- * 
brella handle. He would adjourn to Muggs’s, and have a couple of glasses of stiff 
brandy and water — that would brighten him up a bit, and take away his nervousness. 
And if Muggs had a round of beef in cut, he would go in for a plateful or so, with 


PUFF ! PUFF ! 99 

maslied potatoes — a delicacy lie much delighted in, and which it had been found impos- 
sible to make at Pufi'. 

The rest of the captain’s thoughts are not worth recording. 

The service was over. Our five gentlemen gathered together from their different 
pews into one focus — the door; but, strange to say, when the squire looked round for 
them, after greeting a few of his Rampton acquaintances, no one was near him but 
Prank. The others had unaccountably disappeared. 

So, arm-ill-arm, the two friends paraded up and down a short time. 

“ What a doleful thing a town is on Sunday, Prank I ” 

“ It is, squire. Let us go down to the pier.” 

“ Why, Puff is more lively.” 

“ Certainly, squire,” responded the amiable Frank. 

They took some turns up and down the pier. 

“ What can have become of all the people? ” exclaimed the squire, as they discovered 
they had this usual promenade all to themselves. 

“ Eveiybody is at luncheon, I suppose,” answered Frank. 

“ By the bi", that is a capital idea ! Let us go. Prank, to Muggs’s, and have a good 
luncheon. No offence to you, my dear fellow, who have, I am sure, done your best; 
but I have a longing to eat something nicely dressed.” 

“A most reasonable longing. Why should we not dine here, instead of going home?” 

“ Capital ! where are the others ? Do let us seek for them and propose it,” exclaimed 
the squire, wholly unconscious of the ironical stress that Frank laid upon the word 
“ home.” He required all things to be plainly developed to his understanding, and saw 
nothing in Prank’s words but an uncommonly sensible idea. 

“ Or let us go at once to Muggs’s and order the dinner; and we will not tell them. 
Prank, until it is ready — it will be such an agreeable surprise ! ” 

“ We must treat them to it, squire, or it will be by no means agreeable to King Crab. 
In fact, his pleasure in eating it will be lost in the pang of paying for it.” 

“ By Jove I you are right. Prank; that is even more sensible than the first idea. Crab 
comes of a thrifty family ; which is, I believe, a great virtue, but I cannot say that the 
Joscelyns ever practised it. Between you and me, Frank, I am no hand at hoarding ; I 
like that command in the Bible, where we are bidden not to let the left hand know 
what the right gives — but hullo I there’s Muggs off somewhere ! Muggs ! Muggs ! ” 

As for Mr. Muggs pretending not to hear the squire’s call, that was impossible I 
Even the surburbs of Rampton might have heard the summons. 

He obeyed the squire at once, who rushed immediately into the delightful excitement 
of ordering a first-rate dinner, wholly oblivious of a curious display of dissolving ex- 
pressions on the rosy face of Mr. Muggs, that came and went with marvellous rapidity. 

“ Dinner for five — a guinea ahead, iced champagne, every delicacy you can think 
of — but rabbits and fiounders.” 

“ Or herrings,” suggested Frank. 

“ Or herrings,” echoed the squire; “I don’t care if I never see another herring all 
my life ; but what is the matter, Muggs ? ” 

I have already orders for three dinners, squire ; and when you called me, I was just 
about running to Shanks for a delicate veal cutlet for Sir George. I kuow Shanks 
killed a veal on Friday, and though it is the Sabbath, I feel sure he will oblige me with 
some.” 

“ Three dinners ! ” 

“Yes, squire, Mr. Spooner came first, and ordered a rumpsteak, sir, with a shalot or 
two ; a greengage tart, with Devonshire cream ; Stilton cheese, a salad, a pint of hock. 
Sir George, mulligitawny soup, a sole filleted, veal cutlets, a duckling, green peas, an 
orange marmalade souffle, bottle of Burgundy ; Sam to have the run of his teeth — so 
Sir George expressed it, squire. The captain, sir, he has ordered two plates of cold 
biled, mashed potatoes, and a jam puff. Thq drink not settled.” 

“ Do they all dine together? ” 

“ Oh ! no, Mr. Summers ; they not only don’t dine together, but have each a separate 
apartment. The captain — he, sir, dines in the bar, sir ! ” 

The squire was silent from astonisliment. His bewildered thoughts wandered 
through the mazes of thought, engendered by the curious habits and idiosyncrasies of 
the human species. He felt as if his mind had experienced a rude blow, which he 
longed to return in the flesh. 

lie recovered himself sufficiently to echo Prank’s order. 

“ Put all the dinners together in one room, on one table. They shall have their own 
and our dinners too, and, squire, we will pay for all.” 

“ It will be a lesson. Prank,” murmured he, as they departed to kill the time until 
the dinner liour. The squire seldom moralized; when he did, it. was so great an 
effort, that ho felt quite sleepy after it. So he laid himself down under a tree and fell 
fast asleep ; but before he had quite composed himself, he imparted to Prank the pith 
of his moralizing, — 


100 


LORDS AND LADIES, 


“ I don’t think a woman would have done it, Frank ! ” 

“ Of course not, squire.” 

While this worthy gentleman slept himself into his usual normal state of happy con- 
tent, Frank bethought him of the discomfiture that would ensue, did their intended 
guests meet suddcnl}' the shock of an exposure. 

Ilis* ideas of an entertainment consisted in its being enjoyed both mentally and phys- 
ically. He was not going to give so much money for a feast, if this feast was to 
disagree with the guests through discomposure of mind, than which nothing so inter- 
feres with a perfect digestion. No sting of remorse should imbitter the first gulp of 
champagne, no twinge of conscience interfere with the enjoyment of discussing an 
excellent and well-appointed dinner. 

IIo^v was this to be managed ? 

Frank was well aware that, among his companions, he passed for a man of easy 
good-nature ; nay, when it suited them, they made prodigious use of that good-nature, 
even going so far as to consider him, in the matter of being imposed upon very often, 
as closely allied to the numerous family of the Fools. 

This appreciation of his merits was so far beneficial to him, that they confided in 
him as a man confides in his valet. They did not care to appear in his eyes as heroes *, 
on the contrary, they were upon the comfortable terms of being under no restraint be- 
fore or with him. Their weaknesses, their little sins and follies, were as patent to his 
sight as their own. Indeed, rather more so, if we are to believe “ Burns.” 

But with the squire it was very different. There was a bluntness about him, a dis- 
regard of agreeable subterfuge, a plainness of speech, joined to an utter incapability 
of fibbing, or even compromising, that made him an object of dread to the dealer in 
trifling hypocrisy. No lie, however cheerful in aspect, went down with him. He 
seemed indeed to take especial pleasure in examining its showy dress, and stripping it 
naked to view. Without being remarkable for a great share of wisdom, he had an"in- 
stinct for the truth that made him detect the least departure therefrom, with a sagacity 
almost miraculous. Thus Frank knew that their three friends would bear with forti- 
tude, or rather they would not care at all, that he should know of theif three private 
dinners ; but Avith Squire Joscelyn, the knowledge Avould be attended with such dis- 
may, such dread of his turbulent tongue, his ungovernable truth, that they never w'ould 
recover it. The dinner Avould be an entire failure. 

So he set off in search of his friends, trusting to inspiration to arrange the matter. 
He met Mr. Spooner alone, Avho did not appear so Avell pleased to see his Puff brother 
as might be expected. In fact, he was hurrying to Muggs, on his own little private 
business. 

“ Spooner,” said Frank, linking his arm inexorably in his, “ you are just the person I 
wish to see. The squire, inspired by a happy thought, has ordered a first-rate dinner 
for us all at Muggs’s, and I give the wine.” 

“ At Muggs’s ? ” 

“Yes, I have been there, and finding that you had ordered your luncheon, I thought 
you would forgive me for unordering it as the squire will be disappointed if you°do 
not do justice to his feast.” 

Now Spooner at once felt an inward conviction that Frank knew all about his pri- 
vate little arrangement, and he Avas honestly ashamed; moreover, he confessed it. 
Frank soothed him over Avith a fcAV more doses of polite fibbing, and it ended in Mr. 
Spooner’s experiencing that lightness of heart which is the consequence of easing 
one's conscience of a load, and he gave himself over to the delights of happy anticipa- 
tion. 

To do Spooner justice, nothing but an absolute craving for something palatable to 
cat, made him at all put up Aviththe disagreeableness of what he called “ feeding alone.” 
Frank told him AA'here to find the squire, and they separated. 

Summers found Sir George reading the newspaper in the coffee-room, and feelin"* no 
need, in his case, to resort to any soothering or polite fibbing, he said at once, — 

“ The squire joins Avith me in giving you a dinner to-day at Muggs’s, instead of going 
home.” oo 7 o 

“ But I have ordered mine already ! ” answered Sir George ; “ mulligi ” 

“ TaAvny soup, veal cutlets, duckling, peas, orange something. I ordered your din- 
ner to be put Avith ours, George, I thought it looked better.” 

“ Ccrtainlj’^, Frank, you did quite right; I had no idea any of you cared to dine on 
shore, otherAAuse I Avould liaA^e proposed it before.” 

“ I have no doubt of it,” ansAvered Frank. 

Thus he had manged two of his intended guests; one sensitive, And the other total- 
ly Ignorant of having done anything but what Avas most natural. 

King Crab Avas to be treated after a very different fashion, 
mr^hivite^^mu ordered Muggs to provide us Avith a first-rate dinner, and has sent 

“Anything to pay?” 


puff! puff! 


101 


“No” 

“ I accept witli pleasure. Between you and me, Summers, the squire loves his 
stomach, and I don’t see why we should not take advantage thereof.” 

“ He loves a good dinner, but he does not like to eat it alone. He could not enjoy a 
plate of cold beef and mashed potatoes by himself.” 

The captain winced a little, just as a rhinoceros might, at the pinge of a bullet against 
his rough hide. But he showed no other sympton of having a conscience, and shortly 
left Frank, who knew he did so to go and uuorder the plate of cold “ biled.” 

When they all met to eat this famous dinner, the good squire was the only one who 
felt a little uneasy. He wished them all to enjoy themselves, but he also desired that 
they should feel he was hurt. He wanted them them to sit down in an hilarious mood, 
yet he longed to fling at their heads a few of the hard stones of truth. 

llis feelings as a gentleman urged him to treat his guests courteously, but his wrongs 
as a man and a brother goaded him to take revenge. But his mind was completely 
thrown ofl* its balance by fliidiiig them as gay and unconcerned as if they had never 
perpetrated, even in thought, an act contrary to the rules of good-fellowship. 

He began to think that Muggs had made a mistake, and his good heart rejoiced. 
With the first bumper of champagne he dismissed all bitterness of mind, and they ate 
and drank jovially. 

It was not until dinner was over, and they were all in that complacent mood that 
follows a special good time, that Frank, with much innocence of manner, propounded 
the question as to whether they had not infringed upon the stringent rules of the chal- 
lenge, and forfeited their right to win by dining on shore. 

The squire was so shocked at the bare supposition of having broken a rule, or his 
word, that he was wholly unable to speak. 

Mr. Spooner reddened to the roots of his hair, and clutched a whisker so vehemently 
that, between pain and surprise, he exclaimed, as any woman might, — 

“Goodness gracious ! ” 

Sir George smiled. Secretly he thought, “ If we have infringed the challenge, of 
course it is over.” A vision of a lovely blushing face, half visible through a magnifi- 
cent veil of Brussels lace, his own particular present, standing beside him at an altar, 
filled him with the most delightful sensation. He was lost in the mental contemplation 
of a bridal scene. 

King Crab, invigorated by champagne, loudly declared the ladies had no business to 
interfere with their little pleasure. 

After a great deal of discussion, in which Sir George’s was the only dissentient voice, 
I grieve to say that the gentlemen settled among themselves not to mention the episode 
of dining on shore. 

“ Unless,” stipulated the squire, “ Elizabeth asks me the question point blank.” 

They all agreed with the squire that, if Mrs. Joscelyn did propound the question, the 
squire must answer it truthfully. 

“Women,” remarked King Crab, “as a general rule, uniformly ask just what they 
ought to know nothing about; but, as regarded Mrs. Joscelyn, he must do her the 
justice to say she was less likely to do so than the rest of her sex.” 

The squire acknowledged this compliment to his wife with a nod, which, whether it 
was meant to express gratitude or reciprocity of sentiment, was accepted by the 
captain with much urbanity. 

Thus, upon the whole, they passed their Sunday much to their satisfaction; as 
regarded their religious duties, they were not without hope that they had fulfilled them 
inlin exemplary manner ; and with respect to the duty they owed themselves, nothing 
could be more gratifying than the way in which it had been performed. 

It was about nine o’clock when they started for home, as Frank repeated at every 
opportunity with emphasis. The moon had not yet risen, but worlds of stars were 
twinkling their little lights, as if rejoicing that she was on her way. 

Delicious as it is at all times to float upon the water (that is, if one’s digestion does not 
take umbrage at the motion), at no time is it more so than at night. The beauty of 
the heavens is twofold — it is reflected upon the sea, until one of a fervid imagination 
might almost fiincy he was sailing through the blue vault of heaven, towards the lauds 
of the blest. To be sure, the landing at Puff might dispel the illusion. But at present, 
those who were awake gave themselves up to the contemplation of the loveliness and 

beauty of the night. , ^ . 

There was a luminous shimmer on the sea that gave it the appearance of liquid 
silver. There was a purity and balm in the air that refreshed them like the waters of 
Nepenthe. There was a silence, yet a melody, in the sea, to which the gentle sound 
of the plashing oars kept time, that soothed them as a happy dream. 

Sir George took the opportunity of completing his mental picture of that intended 
bridal-day, until he had worked himself up into such a state of fervor on the subject, 
his heart bounded and throbbed with an emotion as delicious as it was novel. 


102 


LORDS AND LADIES, 


Mr. Spooner composed an ode. It was his happiest effort, and he mused over and 
repeated it to himself, until he experienced quite a glow of gratified vanity . 

Frank’s face, if it was the index of his mind, faintly visible every now and then 
through the ray of a star lighting it up, might lead one to suppose that some beneficent 
being had crowned him with an especial happiness that was seldom bestowed upon 
mortals, a happiness that is felt but cannot be expressed. Mortal pens cannot write 
them, even if mortal M’ords could portray it. Only those crowned in like manner can 
imagine the feelings filling Frank’s bosom and illuming his face. 

When a man fiihils his daily duties with an honest and true heart — when he is 
the soul of honor and incapable of wronging any one but himself— when he shows, 
and is not afraid to show, those gentle enthusiastic feelings belonging to a 'woman, 
and is, besides, manly, brave, and courteous — when he glories in his position as man, 
because it gives him the title and permission to be the protector and guardian of 
woman — then does he feel as our Frank felt, crowned with that especial happiness 
that belongs to the good. 

Beside him sat one who, from education and habit, thought and acted very differ- 
ently. He considered woman, according to that reason given at the birth of Eve, as 
created for the pleasure of man. In a word, he thought her of an inferior nature to 
himself, lie owned the world would be wretched, desolate, a very Pandemonium 
without women, yet he would not elevate them to any standard. They were playthings, 
tools, trifles, with whom to fool away hours of leisure and ease. 

With these feelings in his heart he had taken advantage of his position in the world 
to flirt with, to deceive, to bamboozle, to blight the existence of many of those inferior 
creatures called women. Had he been told that he was acting a dishonorable part to 
single out a j’oung lady to make her conspicuous by his attentions, to let her name be 
coupled with his (we will say nothing of her affections being trifled with), he 'would 
have laughed. IIow could it be dishonorable to amuse one’s self with a little flirting? 
But I am glad to record that, on this lovely night, nature all soft and beautiful, there 
fell a veil from the soul of this man. He felt the true nature of love — he realized its 
purity, divinity, its exalted aspirations. He understood what was meant by the 'word 
“ helpmeet he acknowledged to himself that a woman can be to a man what nothing 
else in all creation can be, part of himself — “ bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh.” In 
anticipating the honor and worship due to his intended wife. Sir George placed the 
whole female sex on a proper pedestal in his esteem. 

But they have arrived at Puff — at home. 

No friendly and welcoming Scruttles comes to meet them with a lantern, and a joyful 
greeting. Silence and darkness reign supreme. 

The squire had brought a hamper with him, containing a dozen bottles of cham- 
pagne. 

Begarding this hamper as something precious, he ordered one of the boatmen to 
help Sam carry it to the house, so that, if one stumbled, the other might be at hand to 
save the contents from an indiscreet fall. 

Thus they proceeded cautiously. They approached ; not a light in the house ; dark, 
impenetrable silence I Sam, cognizant of a box of matches, procured a light. By the 
dim obscurity of one candle they proceeded to look for the “ excellent convict.” 

There were symptoms of his having laid the cloth for dinner ; or was it only the 
remains of breakfast still on the table? It was. 

And everything was covered with a coating of fine sand, which proved but too 
clearly, if any untoward fate had befallen the lonely Scruttles, it must have occurred 
very early in the day. 

“ Has he been murdered? ” whispered Spooner, sepulchrally. 

“ Good heavens ! no,” exclaimed the squire, who was matter of fact to the last 
degree; “the spoons and forks seem all safe, and who would run the risk of being 
hanged for Scruttles ! ” 

“ Perhaps he has gone.” 

“ Joy go with him ! ” 

Meantime the search continued with unabated vigor; more candles were lit, until, in 
their anxiety, some carried two, one in each hand. But each fresh light only sho'wed 
their home in a state of most “ admired disorder.” 

Everything down stairs seemed exactly in the same state in which they had left it. 
Up stairs they rushed. Not a bed made, not a basin emptied ! Those who were untidy 
in their habits had the pain of exposure, for just where they had thrown their garments, 
there did they still lie. 

The orderly ways of the squire did him good service. There was the side of the room 
he occupied jointly with Spooner as tidy as possible, but his practised eye noted a 
change. How came half a dozen black bottles lying by his bedside — promiscuously 
thrown there? A snort from the bed made them rush towards it. There lay the lost 
Scruttles I Was he dead? Yes, after a fashion ! ^ 


PUFF ! PUFF ! 


103 


“Poor fellow!” exclaimed King Crab; “the loneliness has been too much for 
him.” 

“Carry the beast away!” roared the squire; “why should he pitch upon my bed 
on which to sleep away his drunkenness ? I should like to know why my bed was 
chosen ? ” 

“ You gave him five shillings, you know.” 

“I will not sleep in it; I will pass the night in a chair. Why did the beast choose 
my bed?” 

“ It was the only one made, I fancy, squire. Don’t you remember making it so tidily 
before you began to shave ? ” 

“ And for that animal ! Take him away ! Let him go back in the boat, and take all my 
bedding, and bring me fresh to-morrow from Deep-Clifis. Burn that, whatever you do, 
or you will have jail fever ! ” 

This was spoken to the boatmen, who, with Sam (nothing loath), were employed in 
rousing the “ excellent convict.” But he was too hopelessly drunk to be roused, so 
they carried him like a log of wood down to the boat, into which they flung him without 
much ceremony, pitching the bedding in after him. 

Meantime, on a suggestion from Frank, who courteously asked leave of King Crab, a 
note was written to Muggs, to bid him send them a proper cook the next day. The 
captain blandly consented, partly out of remembrance of the excellent dinner he had 
ju3t eaten, and partly from a twinge of gratitude that no one taunted him with the der- 
eliction of his “ excellent convict.” 

They saw the boat ofi*, not without a feeling of joy that they were rid of Scruttles, 
though no one openly said so. The most charitable, amongst them hoped that, at all 
events, he would awake in the morning a wiser though a sadder man. 

They then worked with a will to get things into decent order, during which business 
Sam exerted himself with so much alacrity and wit, that even lung Crab had a good 
word for him. 

It w’as almost twelve o’clock beforp they finished their household duties, winding up 
with improvising beds for the squire and Spooner in the saloon ; for various little inci- 
cents that must have occurred to Scruttles during the course of his Sunday debauch, 
had rendered their joint room vastly disagreeable. 

There was such a meekness and amiability about King Crab, that they ventured to 
make one or two remarks on Scruttles, which he took in good part. 

“ My idea of that fellow is,” said the squire, “ that from his very infancy he has been 
a beast. We may congratulate ourselves that nothing worse has happened. He might 
have levanted with everything, or set fire to the house. That he has got drunk on the 
only occasion left open to him, is less a matter of wonder than annoyance. Though 
as for annoyance, I can only say, we may all congratulate ourselves we are rid of 
him ! ” 

“ I think it was a very good idea sending for a proper cook,” observed Spooner. 

“ Now that is a thing I cannot understand,” said King Crab, just beginning to feel a 
little nettled ; “ why are eating and drinking the sole things a man cares for ? ” 

“Not the sole things, but they are obviously the first cause of everything ; we live to 
eat, and w'e cannot live without eating. Hunger makes a man work ; hunger sharpens 
a man’s wits ; hunger is the top and the bottom, the beginning and end of everything 
we do.” 

“Bravo, squire; I could not have explained the matter more psychologically than 
you have done ! ” 

“ Humph ! ” growled the squire ; I am going to bed.” 

He had a mortal aversion to Spooner’s learned disquisitions, as much because he un- 
derstood nothing about them, as because he felt sure they smacked of guess rather than 
certainty; and, with all his love of truth, he was unable to contradict him. 

Frank had gone, according to usual custom, to take a last look at what he called the 
heavens. Certainly Lufi* might have seemed a sort of heaven to him. To-night, for the 
first time. Sir George accompanied him. 

The moon was just rising. * 

“ All seems calm and safe,” said Sir George. 

“ Yes, a more lovely night I never saw.” 

“I have thought a good deal to-day, Frank.” 

“ I hope they have been thoughts to your liking? ” 

“ Partly. I used to laugh at you, Frank, for your chivalrous notions about women. 
I wish — I wish I had been taught as you have been, to respect them.” 

“ I was not taught. When a child I loved and respected my mother; as I grew up, I 
respected all women for her sake.” 

“Was she so good a mother? ” 

“ She was a true woman ; gentle, tender, and unselfish. But even had she possessed 
none of these qualities, still, being my mother, I should have loved her; and being a 
woman, I respected her.” 


104 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“ Only because sbe was a woman? ” 

“ Yes, George, and for this reason : man’s life being imperfect — woman was made to 
complete it. She is therefore his peculiar charge. If he ill-treats her, neglects her, he 
is answerable for her sins. Let a man elevate a woman to the proper standard, name- 
ly, as the better part of himself, and she has the best and holiest reasons for acting up 
to that standard ! ” 

“ Then you think men are, in a measure, answerable for the sins of women? ” 

“ We won’t say all. There are some which belong entirely to their own sex and 
habits. But there is a sensitiveness about w'omen, and an unselfishness, that makes 
them in the first instance, peculiarly alive to appreciation ; and in the second, singular- 
ly devoted and afi’ectionate.” 

“ Have you ever been in love, Frank, before ” 

Sir George paused; he was going to say, “ before you saw Miss Severn.” 

But he was not quite sure whether he might venture to touch upon a matter that 
seemed at present in a very delicate crisis. 

“ I fell in love,” answered Frank at once, “ with a girl (I ought to call her a woman) 
when I was only eighteen, and she was two or three and twenty, perhaps more. That 
was the first time. She was just that sort of person -who might beguile a boy out of 
his heart — petite, delicate, fair, a lovely face, and graceful figure. Everybody admired 
her, and wondered why she did not marry. For my part, when I first began to^descry 
the dawnings of love, I concluded that fate had designed her for me, and so kept her 
free. She had a soft, beguiling voice, a gentle, beseeching manner. She was truly a 
woman — a thing in those days I admired. I liked them to be helpless. You must 
know that she was, is, first cousin to the squire, but, as you are never likely to meet 
her anywhere, I don’t mind telling you how she played with that toy, my heart. That 
is, if you like to hear it.” 

“By all means, Frank, nothing I should like better.” 

“ The squire, you must know, was rather unfortunate in his parents. Ilis father was 
one of those rough, uncouth natures who have sterling qualities, though they are de- 
veloped ill a disagreeable manner. Imagine a person like our squire, without his bon- 
homie, without being softened, as the squire evidently has been softened, by living with 
such a woman as his wife. 

“ His mother was a showy, fine woman, who caught her husband’s fancy by her 
bold and resolute character, and lost it afterwards by practising those virtues in private 
life. 


“As he said, ‘ "We don’t want two masters in my house. I am master, and if you 
won’t take your proper position as mistress, and mistress only, I recommend you to 
seek another home. You shall not live here.’ Which advice she took, and made 
her residence in Bath, where she led a life into which we need notwnake further 
inquiries. 

“ Her husband was more than forty when he married her, and life, you know, in those 
daj^s, was not so long as now. Fort wine and bad habits began to tell on his constitu- 
tion at forty, while an hereditary tendency to gout came on, and helped to put an end 
to him before our squire was ten years old. 

“ His uncle was appointed his guardian, whose only daughter was the young lady I 
am speaking of —my first love. Her name was Eliza, but she chose to be called by her 
friends Elise, though her father, with the stubborn characteristics of his family, always 
persisted in calling her by the first name. 

“ Her mother was an invalid, and had been so for many years, so Elise had been vir- 
tually mistress of her father’s house for many years. She and our squire had known 
each other from the time his father died. She was a little the elder. 

“ Now, though she had made up her mind to marry the squire very early in their 
young lives, she was incapable of resisting admiration. She was never satisfied unless 
she had some one dangling after her. But I will confine myself simply to my own case. 
She was one of those dangerous women, a true fiirt. She made no difficulty of tcllinn- 
me in private that she loved me, and only me, while in public she received the adula*^ 
tion and fiattery of any one who would give it her I saw this, and yet was foolish 
enough to be wheedled out of my natural indignation whenever she chose. Perhaps 
she might have seriously endangered my peace of mind, or, at all events, soured me as 
to the merits of the feminine world, but for the announcement of the squire’s intended 
marriage. I do not know if he had ever professed love for her, or given her any reason 
to suppose he loved her, or, in fact, acted in such a way as to lead the world to think 
he had jilted her. I had never seen him, or, indeed, heard much of him ; for, though 
she often talked of her cousin, it was in a careless, indiflrerent manner. Moreover I 
knew he seldom wrote, though he was and had been abroad for two years ; and when he 
did rite, the letter was always short, always to ask for his remittances, and invariablv 
addressed to his aunt. 


“Thus I was taken greatly by surprise at the sudden effect of this news upon her. 
She was simply furious. To see this little delicate woman — always so beautifully 


puff! puff! 


105 


dressed, so feminine in her ways, so dainty in her speech, giving way to a fit of passion, 
was, my dear George, the most painful scene I ever witnessed in all my life. She had 
a very peculiar way of doing her hair, like no one I ever saw — it was a fashion of 
her own, and suited her wonderfully. Well, don’t laugh at me, but in her rage she dis- 
arranged her hair. You would have been as startled as I was in the change it made in 
her. She was absolutely ugly. Her low, receding brow was exposed ; large, thin, 
hideously-shaped ears were brought forward, and, so far from looking like a woman, 
she reminded me of nothing but a vindictive weasel, intent upon hunting its prey to 
death. 

“ ‘Frank,’ she exclaimed, as soon as she could speak coherently, ‘ we must prevent 
this marriage ; it must not take place ; I will have him up for breach of promise ; I will 
expose him ; I will poison her ! kill her ! ’ ” 

“ Really to think of the squire having inspired such a frantic attachment ! ” 

“ I do not wish to deteriorate from the squire’s merits, for they must have been great 
to gain him the affections of Mrs. Joscclyn; but his cousin Elise was not put into this 
rage by disappointed love, but because she was disappointed in gaining an end. She 
had settled that she would marry her cousin, and whether an eligible plan or not, her 
temper would not brook being thwarted. No, I consider Elise to have been incapable 
of any love, but the love of her own way.” 

“ Do you suppose the squire had really given her any cause to think he loved her? ” 

“Jealous as I was of him, at the time, my reason asserted that he could have given 
her very little. After I knew him, I was confident that, if anything, he disliked her. 
Certainly they were as opposite in character as fire and water. He was all frankness ; 
he could no more hide a sensation, than he could tell an untruth. She was, from the 
crown of her head to the sole of her feet, wholly made up of deceit. It was the happi- 
ness of her life to have a mystery. Before she exposed her real character to me in this 
fit of passion, I had been pained by this flaw in her character. My love, which was 
open and honorable, she persisted in investing with all the odiums and inconveniences 
of a secret attachment. She was forever placing me in positions abhorrent to my na- 
ture, and using the plausible excuse that it was for my sake. 

“Her father aud mother would be angry at my presumption, so'mere a boy. More 
than once I had said, I would incur their displeasure rather than hate myself for deceiv- 
ing them. Then would she answer, ‘ that I thought only of myself, and not her, and 
that it would kill her if deprived of my society.’ ” 

“ She seems to have bamboozled you well, Frank ; I wonder you had patience with 
any of the sex afterwards.” 

“ I was not going to lose my faith in them, because it was my chance to meet with 
one like Elise. I owed it to my mother to pit her virtues against this woman’s small, 
degrading sins. Besides, I was soon cured of my love for her when I saw her in juxta- 
position with Mrs. Joscelyn.” 

“ Did the squire bring home his bride, then?” 

“ He brought her, or rather she came, to pay his relations a visit before they married. 
It was only by a miracle, and a good fate, that they ever got married at all. I fancy 
Mrs. Joscclyn could tell an extraordinary tale, if she chose. The battle of truth and 
honor against h 5 'pocrisy and craft was, if I mistake not, a very sharp one. I was obliged 
to leave in the very middle of it, so I don’t know how they conquered.” 

“ Perhaps the squire would tell us ? ” 

“ I very much question if he knows anything about it, and he could not understand 
the crooked ways of Elise if he tried to do so. He had a perception that she was art- 
ful, aud not to his mind, but that made no difference to him. As for Mrs. Joscelyn, I 
think she understood her at once, or, at all events, very soon. 

“I was in. the house when she arrived; a blooming, beautiful, blushing girl, all 
frankness and innocence. She felt her position, alone, without any of her relations, 
come to be inspected as it were, aud not by a future father and mother, but by thoso^ 
uncomfortable, criticising sorts of people, uncles and aunts. She had not the satisfac- 
tion of trying to win their affections, for they were cold-hearted, frigid people, and 
asked her to visit them more out of compliment to the squire than anything else. This 
she appears to have understood at once, and accepted the terms on which she was to be 
held. 

“ But there was something so artless, at the same time sensible in her manner, a tact 
so singular, yet perfectly natural, that she made a conquest of the uncle and aunt in a 
very short time. They could not help loving her. What delighted the old gentleman 
the most, was her pretty, frank way with her intended husband. 

“ Without the least afi’ectation of nonsense, or a parade of sentimentalism or prudery, 
she showed her affection for him, and her thorough appreciation of what it was to have 
a lover. This charmed him. One instance in particular I remember. There w’as to 
be a dinner-party, and, according to the scheming of Elise, the lovers were not to go 
in to dinner together. In vain the old gentleman tried to overrule Elise. 

“ ‘ Never mind,’ said the young bride, smiling, ‘ we can exchange looks 1 ’ ” 

14 


106 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“ I should like to have seen the squire in love.” 

*‘IIe was by no means a fond lover; indeed, he acted that phase in his life pretty 
much in the same way as he acts the part of husband. He is very uncomfortable with- 
out his Elizabeth. Once she was very ill indeed ; I think it was after little Bessie’s 
birth. He had been always hankering for a daughter, and I remember meeting him 
wild with delight that this little longed-for stranger had arrived. I never saw him more 
jubilant and gay. Do you know, my dear George, three days after that I saw him, and 
did not know him. He seemed absolutely shrivelled up with grief. He could not rest, 
he could not sleep ; he had eaten nothing the two days she was in imminent danger ; 
only he drank — drank great tumblers of wine, which had no more effect on him than 
water. They sent for me to be with him ; indeed, if the worst had happened, which at 
that time was most imminent, there was every fear that his reason might give way, and, 
unable to support life without her, he might, overcome by the shock, make away with 
himself. We had stringent orders to remove everything like a weapon, or that might 
be used as an instrument of destruction, from his sight.” 

“ Poor dear squire ! He is the last man I ever should have picked out as likely to die 
for love of a woman ! ” 

“ She was his wife, remember; perhaps he would have borne it better had they not 
been married.” 

“ I argue just the contrary, Frank ; I know many men who ” 

“ I am not going to listen to anything unorthodox. Let me finish iny tale ; I seem to 
have lost sight of my own sufferings, talking of the squire’s.” 

“Keep them back for a moment, while you tell me how long the squire was in this 
sad condition.” 

“ For nearly a week. He was at last so reduced, and so nervous, that he was unable 
to leave his room, and twenty times in an hour he would send me to her door to make 
inquiries. She had brain fever or something of that sort, brought on by the culpable 
negligence of the nurse, who accidentally set fire to the bed curtains the day after her 
confinement; and though she and her baby were rescued in time, she was carried in a 
hurry to a bed on which they had put unaired sheets. But, at all events, I knew she 
had brain fever, fOr I used to hear hor voice, not exactly raving, but quietly crooning, 
as it were, snatches of old songs ; and at times she would repeat psalms and prayers. 
In fact, her mind was in that happy state that, dangerously ill as she was, there was no 
difficulty in nursing her. The sweetnesses and loveliness of her disposition was as 
strongly developed when bereft of reason, as at her sanest moments. 

“It was to this calmness, this gentleness, that she owed her life. She never disputed 
a single thing the doctor commanded, when he asked her to do it ‘ to please him.’ 

“ ‘ Of course,’ she would saj'-, ‘ anything to please you.’ 

“ Once I persuaded her husband to go to her door, thinking it would comfort him to 
hear her voice so happily talking. It so happened that she mentioned his name. 

“‘Johnl John I’ she exclaimed, as if calling him, ‘why don’t you answer your 
Lizzy ? ’ 

“ He rushed into the room, thinking she was really sane and called him, and when he 
found that, though he held her in his arms, and laid his tear-stained face against her 
flushed one, that she still kept calling, — 

“ ‘ John ! John I why don’t you answer your Lizzy? ’ 

“ It was too much for him. He sobbed aloud. 

“ She did not know him in the least. 

“ I did not tell him when the crisis was at hand. I thought the shock either way was 
better for him to bear than the suspense. 

“ At last I heard that she slept — the one thing for which we were all praying. 

“ I went down stairs and ordered a light dinner to be prepared and sent up to a 
small boudoir that was placed half-way up the stairs. AVhen it was ready I took him 
there, but he turned away as usual, loathing the food. 

“ ‘ God has been very good,’ I said, ‘ your wife sleeps. When she awakes it will be 
for life or death. Eat, therefore, that you may have strength to see her either way.’ 

“ He was like a meek, little child, and I could see that, as he ate, a ravenous hunger 
came upon him, which I thought it well to indulge. The effect of so much food, after 
such unusual fasting, was, as I hoped, to make him drowsy. He fell fast asleep, with a 
mouthful almost unswallowed, and his slumber was almost as beneficial to him as to 
his wife. It was so heavy that he did not snore as usual, which was the reason I had 
him moved to this lower room, for fear he should do so and c^isturb his wife. Though 
I don’t think it would have done so, lier nature is such that, well or ill, nothing annoys 
her but wickedness. When the squire awoke, I had the happiness of telling him his 
wife was out of danger. He squeezed my hand until I could have roared. And the 
dear fellow went into his bed-room and, I am certain, fell on his knees, and thanked 
God heartily.” 

“Well, he never gave me the least idea of that sort of man; and he is often so 
brusque with his wife.” 


107 


“luff it is." 

** He is so ; but that is the peculiarity of his character. He always acts and speaks 
just as he thinks. Nine times out of ten his impulses are good. Can we all say the 
same ? ” 

“ I fear not. I for one should be sorry to speak all the thoughts of my mind. They 
would disgrace me, I know. The squire is the last man I ever thought to elevate into 
a hero, especially a tender one. So go on, Frank, with the laceration of your heart. I 
expect to be wonderfully touched.” 

“ Then your expectations will not be verified. I dare say, if Elise had died, I should 
have mourned her as deeply as the most tender lover. But, my dear George, love van- 
ishes like smoke when there is no esteem. A feeling of honor retained me by her side 
for a time, just to assist her, if I discovered that Mr. Joscelyn had really given her 
cause for her accusations. But, you must allow, I should have been more than a fool 
not to see that I had been befooled. It was rather a relief to find she was incapable of 
love — that is, love such as I wanted. She was very artful, and nearly drew me into a 
partnership with her to separate the young lovers, and make them quarrel. But the 
indomitable frankness of the squire, and the faith and innocence of his fiancee, seemed 
so likely to be a match for all her arts, that I left them all, as the safest course to 
pursue.” 

“ And what became of her ? ” 

“ I never wilfully vilify a woman. Get her fate out of the squire, if you are curious.” 

“ And did you never love again between then and now? ” 

“ I went out to the Mauritius for four years, to look after some property of my 
father’s. When I came home, he was dead, and my mother fell into the illness that 
lasted until her death, two years ago.” 

“Well, Frank, I won’t pry further into your secrets. It is astonishing how much 
better human nature is than we are taught to think it. If Spooner was here, he would 
give us learned reasons for this, no doubt.” 

“Poor Spooner! much learning will not make him mad. He picks up a hard word 
or two, and applies them according to sound rather than sense. But ’tis an innocent 
amusement.” 

“ Now, his wife is a woman I should hate to live with.” 

“ I fancy if I was obliged to marry her, I would beg to part at the church door.” 

“Do I hear aright? The most preux chevalier the ladies possess, absolutely pro- 
fessing to dislike one?” 

“ How can I appreciate the others, George, if I do not estimate all at their worth? ” 

“ Frank, what do you think of — I mean, do you not see — has it ever struck you, 
there is a resemblance between the aunt and the niece ? ” 

“I did not know Mrs. Spooner possessed an aunt; she is old enough to be her own 
aunt.” 

“ Mrs. Joscelyn, my dear fellow — I mean Mrs. Joscelyn and her niece.” 

“ Of course there is a great likeness in their characters, and will be more so as Miss 
Daintree grows older.” 

“ I wonder you did not fall in love with her, Frank.” 

“ She is too young for me ; I have known her from a child.” 

“Do you think she would make a good wife? ” 

“ It is quite impossible for her to be otherwise. She carries her warranty in her 
face.” 

“ I think, Frank — I have been thinking a good deM to-day. I really think I must 
marry soon.” 

“ I would not think about it, George, any more — I would do it.” 

“ By Jove ! I will. Thank you, Frank ; I am very much obliged to you, Frank.” 

“ My advice is more palatable than King Crab’s.” 

“ Ugh ! I hate him ! How could we be such fools as to be led by him, to come to this 
odious spot ! ” 

“ Treason ! treason ! I will write every word you say in the journal.” 

“ Do so; for, if you don’t, I shall do it myself.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

“luff it is." 

The sagacity of the reader will no doubt readily comprehend that the ladies had ar- 
rived at that crisis of apathetic dulness which gives history nothing to record. They 
were departing when we left them, for Exe church, with the determination of staying 
at Exe over the afternoon service. 


108 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


They shed a few more tears over the sad records of the drownea, and they collected 
some very interesting stories regarding not only those who were mourned, but of the 
mourners themselves. 

On certain anniversaries, a lady and gentleman came down to Exe, and spent a sad 
vigil over a tomb, that recorded the naines of two young girls, fifteen and sixteen years 
age, drowned on their way home from school. They were the only children of this 
couple. 

“ Year by year,” said the old fisherman, who had talked to them the Sunday before, 
“ they do cum puuktivcl, and they do sit o’ that there stone be the hour, and ivery year 
as they do cum they luiks holder and sadder nor the year afore. They be a’most so 
haged and feeble this year, as we do think has they woimer cum agin. They will be 
gone to where their little lassies is awaitin’ on ’im. They is most miserable to see, to 
be sure. There wor an uncommon fine man, as did cum where a stone wor pit hover a 
pratty young critter, fund wi’ a babby in her airms. And arter that we niver saw him 
more, until, "may be, sax weeks agone. He wor a deal stouter, but I knowed him at 
oncest, i)y rason he wor a very fine man, and stepped remarkable. There wor a Icddy 
wi’ him, and twa slips o’ lassies, and he tuk ’em straight over all the mounds, to that 
there grave of the young critter and her babby. And to be sure, he wor choked wi’ 
big sobs, and the locldy had her eyes brimming wi’ tears. And she pit her hond kindly 
on him, and says she, — 

“ She will be my sister in heaven, Kobert.” 

“ And wi’ that he wrung her hand, but a couldn’t speak. And if ye please, mum, 
this wor the second wife and her childer, and I’m thinking she wor a good woinman, 
and didn’t begrudge the first wife, the pretty fair young critter drowned wi’ her babby 
in her airms, the big sobs as wor busting the heart of that foinc man. ^Yc made bould 
as to be werry respectful to that there koind-’arted second wife, please mum.” 

The ladies might have gone on listening to the old man all day, as he went from one 
story into another, but the church bells warned him and them that they must go and 
take their scats in the church. 

Perhaps they were a little sad, remembering the excitement of the last Sunday. They 
each took the same places they had occupied then, so that there was room between 
Kate and Mrs. Joscelyn for another person. It is to be feared that Kate spent the few 
moments they had to spare before the service began, in conjectures as to whether she 
should ever see that handsome face, those kindly beaming eyes looking down into hers 
again, as they sang together out of the same book. 

Her conjectures were answered at once; the pew door opened. Colonel Erne walked 
in, and took, as if it was his place by right, the vacant seat between Mrs. Joscelyn and 
Miss Daintree. 

No veil in the world could hide the rising blushes that covered the pretty face of the 
Eose-bud. Albeit she never raised her eyes, and could only tell by his boots that her 
secret question had been answered. But the blushes kept going and coming all through 
the service ; and when the time came for singing a hymn, he took the book and found 
the place. Not one in the pew seemed to think it necessary to give Kate a hymn 
book. 

And now was enacted one of those simple deeds by which the settling of a momen- 
tous questions takes place. An act, scarcely noticed by others, almost too frivolous to 
be recorded, but which was evidently looked for by one of the parties as that act which 
was to decide his fate, and was given by the other as the token that she accepted the 
decision of that fate. 

Colonel Erne rose almost the first in the pew, as the singing began. He did not oflfer 
the use of his hymn book to Miss Daintree, but he looked at her. Her eyelashes 
flashed, up for a moment, she caught the look, she nestled to his side, and held out her 
hand to hold her side of the book. 

Then did his eyes droop, as much to hide a scintillation of joy in them, that might 
have startled the congregation, as to gaze on a treasure he now considered his own. 
It appeared as if, without a word, with scarcely a sign, these two hearts had decided 
to be interested evermore in each other. She had responded silently to his unasked 
question, and at once he took possession of her. He had now the right to sin«-le her 
out from among her companions, as his peculiar care. He had but scant me^us of 
showing his privilege in a pew in church. Nevertheless, he did not lose one — he 
found her places in the prayer-book. It was his pleasure to consider that she required 
them found for her, and it seemed her pleasure so to have them found. He was most 
particular in adjusting her hassock; he took her veil, just falling from her bonnet, 
folded it, and put it into his pocket. He laid hands upon her little glove, just laid aside 
for a moment, and kept it in his during the whole of the sermon. Finally, on comin«- 
out of church, he put her prayer-book into his pocket, carried her parasol, and offered 
her his arm as they left the church door. 

As they sat on the sea-shore, eating their luncheon, he thus explained his sudden 
arrival to Mrs. Joscelyn, — 


109 


“luff it is.” 

“ I intended to stick faithflilly to the admiral all through his cruise, and not return- 
ing here till next Sunday ; when, his duties being over, he would be free to come with 
me, and see the end of this famous challenge. But I received a letter from head-quar- 
ters yesterday, offering me a command which will take me from England for three 
years. It is not exactly the command I should like, or that is in a manner due to my 
services ; but it is the first thing the Horse Guards have had to offer me, therefore I 
am grateful. ^ They know at head-quarters that I am not fond of an idle life, and that 
probably I might prefer accepting the offer, rather than stay doing nothing at home. 
But sometimes there occur periods in a soldier’s life when a spell at home is absolute- 
ly necessary to him. lie should have some private ties as well as public ties. I shall 
not lose any caste in their eyes if I refuse. The admiral and I discussed the whole 
matter, and the end of it is, you see me here. Say, shall I go, or wait and see the end 
of the challenge ? ” 

“ That will be over long before you sail,” said Clara. 

“ Perhaps — but still, shall I go or stay? ” 

Nobody said a word. 

Mrs. Joscelyn because she was astonished. That the acquaintance of but a few hours 
should put such power into their hands, argued but one thing. And how dare she pro- 
nounce upon so important a matter in this sudden fashion ? 

Mrs. Spooner was silent from astonishment also. Her thoughts not being so saga- 
cious as Mrs. Joscelyn’s, only made her wonder still greater. Never quite able to divest 
herself of a personal interest in anything that was said or done, she had only sufficient 
strength of mind to felicitate herself in secret that she had put her best bonnet on. 

Clara gazed eagerly, inquiringly, into his face. Her clear head and sensitive heart 
divined the inference that was to be drawn by the question put, the reply given. He 
had a restless quickness in his eyes, they wandered from one face to the other, passing 
over, as a gallant gentleman should, the fiusliing, paling face of her gossip. Clara 
turned for a moment to regard her — only for a moment — and then, smiling with joy- 
ous look, exclaimed, — 

“Stay, oh! do stay!” 

“ Thanks,” he said fervently ; “I had settled to stay just two seconds before you 
spoke.” 

So no more was said. 

He passed the whole of the day with them, not embarrassing the little Rose-bud by 
any singular attentions, beyond sitting by her side at evening service, singing with her 
out of the same book, and listening to all she said, as lovers listen to the nightingales. 

Set at ease by this judicious behavior, the pretty little girlish thing emerged out of 
her throbbing state of shyness and reserve, into that of a quiet and serene happiness, 
that imparted to her a beauty that delighted them all. 

As we have said before, there was not a rose-bud in any garden ever more sweet and 
lovely to look upon than this dainty little creature. But now it seemed as if the sun 
had kissed and blessed her, and bid her be a bud no more, but bloom out into a rose, 
as lovely as the dawn. 

She had found her destiny, and rested well content with the glimpse she had of what 
it was to be. 

Oh ! sweet heart, gushing over with a joy that neither earth nor air can produce the 
like ! What sight is there that can equal in purity and beauty the first dawn of love in 
a young girl’s heart. 

But “ goodness gracious ! ” as says our dear Spooner, what business has sentiment 
to do wifh a matter-of-fact story such as this is ? 

Let us go back to realities. All that we have been recording in the last two pages 
is almost stated upon presumption. It will be a sad thing if it has all to be unsaid, 
and to discover that the colonel was, after all, only “ philandering.” 

But still Miss Daintree, as we know, dear reader, has another string to her bow. We 
may as well let her indulge all her flights of fancy, now she has begun to feel what love 
is. 

“ Solitude,” Zimmerman tells us, “ breeds all sorts- of humors in us.” 

Perhaps it was owing to their dull life at Luff that Miss Daintree so suddenly — but 
I forgot. Miss Daintree never allowed it was dull. To this day she repeats it was and 
ever will be the most delicious period of her life. Truly it may be so now, for the 
colonel rows them home. The colonel does not land at Luff, but he sits in the boat, 
and is waited on by ever so many kind hands. One brings him tea, another sugar, a third 
the cream — in fact, the giving him merely one cup of tea took up nearly two hours. 

The colonel thought that tea so good, that he came early in the moniing and had 
another cup. 

The colonel took three of the ladies for a row in his boat. The colonel brought them 
in the evening a dish of fish. Moreover, he had another cup of tea. 

And this continued until the Thursday morning, when the fates ordered him to go to 
London. 


no 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


Fates are so inexorable in their orders. 

In the early part of this history, it is recorded as a fact, for she said it \mth her own 
lips, that Miss Daintrce loved “ flirting.” 

She was liaving quite a dose of it, and at Luflf, too, where they were under a sort of 
solemn engagement to hold no intercourse with any male thing, but Spitz, the lapdog. 

If the ladies had not now infringed the rules and regulations of the challenge, I 
should like to know who had. As the gentlemen had discussed their broken vows on 
dining ashore, the ladies now wondered how far they were culpable in admitting the 
visits and friendly attentions of a gentleman, even though he never landed on their 
island. 

If his boat could speak, how many hours would it not tell the ladies had floated about 
in her, accompanied by a gentleman ! 

Grieved as I was to have it to record that the gentlemen made up their minds to say 
nothing about their “ lapsus,” unless, as the squire bargained, his wife should ask him 
point-blank, I have now to tell, which I do with blushing pen, that the ladies made no 
reservation at all. 

They agreed not to mention one syllable of all this tea-drinking, boat-flirting, and 
goings on. Mrs. Joscelyn did not even say, “ If my husband asks me ; ” or rather she 
did say, “ if I am asked — I shall say nothing.” 

“Nor I.” 

“ Nor I.” 

As if to punish the ladies for this base conduct, all that Thursday evening a great 
cloud kept gathering about him still larger and blacker clouds, until the one side of 
heaven presented a phalanx of awful grandeur, that made the wicked, the perjured, the 
false, shudder to look at. 

So of course our ladies shuddered. 

Mrs. Joscelyn shuddered lest so great a storm was brewing, that their rickety house, 
grand in appearance, but most fragile in reality, might be blown over their heads. 

Mrs. Spooner shuddered because she feared if the sea arose it might swallow up the 
island of Puff. Bessie comforted her by saying that the island of Puff — properly called 
Puffin in ancient maps — had existed time immemorial, and it was not likely to Ido ex- 
punged from the face of the globe this particular mouth in which they inhabited it. 

“But such strange things do happen, nowadays, Bessie, dear! ” 

“ I think,” responded Bessie, “ it will be too strange to occur.” 

Clara shuddered because the howling and sighing of the wind, as it gp,thered from all 
quarters in sullen moans and hurrying blasts, reminded her of the night she was 
orphaned and homeless. 

Kate shuddered because “ somebody” might be in danger. She did not specify who 
was that somebody, but everybody took it for granted she meant the whole world now 
on the water. So she was allowed to shudder a good deal. 

Bessie did not shudder at all, and Susan thought “ noffin of winds a-roring of they- 
selves hout o’ breath,” so much as, “ that they ’ood leave hoff they pranks ” in time for 
the boat to come and replenish their stores. 

Now, the four ladies, we know, had reason to shudder for their sins, without giving 
any reason for their fears. But it is of no use wasting time discussing their delinquen- 
cies — the storm came. It was furious I 

They had to put up the shutters in the daytime, to prevent the windows being blown 
in. They dare not go to bed, because they did not like to separate. They improvised 
couches, and lay all huddled together, as if their weight would keep the house in its 
place, and prevent it being bodily blown away. 

They could only light one Are, and that was in a little back kitchen, whose chimney 
was a little funnel, sheltered in a corner of the house, so that the wind never found it 
out. They had to sit many hours in the dark, because the candles were getting short. 

Daisy, the cow, lowed dismally, adding to their fear. They would like to have 
brought her too into the drawing-room, where Euna and Spitz were already kennelled, 
but Clara and Susan together, with inflnite difficulty, and getting wet through, con- 
trived to tie her up in the coal-hole, where she ate up the hay that was to last her a 
week, that very night. 

So she was obliged to be let loose in the morning to go to seek her food, which she 
did among the new flower-beds — cropping up with her succulent tongue all the pretty 
plants and shrubs they had imported and planted with such care. 

It rained with such impetuosity, power, and perseverance, that they began to think 
the sea had got up into the sky, or that the rain was determined to drown the sea. 

Many slates having been blown off the roof, they were almost obliged to sit under 
umbrellas, for the rain poured down everywhere. They went about in water-proof- 
cloaks, and kept their goloshes handy, excepting when these goloshes went swimming 
away on a little voyage of their own. 

On Saturday evening there was a lull of a few hours, during which time a pale drip- 
ping sun attempted to dry up the world. 


Ill 


“ LUFF IT IS.” 

Mrs. Joscelyn urged them all to exert themselves to warm and fumigate the house. 
They opened every door and window, lighted large fires, dried all their damp things, 
drank oceans of hot tea, and were just getting merry and lively again, when a roaring 
sound was heard in the distance; they hastily got the doors closed, and the window- 
shutters up, when down it came, and shook the house with a dreadful power, that made 
them all pallid with fear. How it ever “ kep its feet,” as Susan said, they did not know, 
for the storm seemed to have returned, as the parable saith, “ with seven spirits more 
wicked than itself.” They appeared to howl round the unfortunate house, only built 
for pleasure, as if their sole business was to hurl it to the ground. They gathered to- 
gether, as if trying to lift the roof, when suddenly, with a whirling and tumultuous 
roar, they would battle at every window like an army of besiegers, and roll off again in 
sullen roars, like the growlings of angry demons. It was impossible to sleep, to rest, 
to do anything ; and they could have no help, for no bop.t could live in such a sea. 

And now came little privations in the way of food. Unlike the gentlemen, they had 
hitherto feasted royally. But it was absolutely necessa.-y to give Daisy the last of theii 
vegetables. Then, with a view to take what was easi'ist prepared, they had indulged 
in tea or coffee, instead of regular dinner, which, inde<id, it was, as nothing else co"uld 
be cooked ; and so their sugar was all gone, and the tea getting lamentably short. 

Ever}' now and then they were cheated into fancying there was a lull in the storm, 
when the winds would come back, whispering at the key-holes like ghosts ; then becom 
ing peevish and angry, at last, in raging fury, they would send down a slanting showei 
of rain, that seemed to pierce the air like long polished spears. And as if that was not 
enough, they would rend the cloud asunder, whiten the ground with hail, and whirl it 
off in clattering bursts of thunder. Altogether, they mutually agreed that never had 
they known such a storm, or one to last so long a time. 

It was on Sunday afternoon that the clouds, covering the earth like a tent-roof, 
began to roll themselves up and fioat away. One or two large heavy ones seemed 
pulled aside like curtains by the wind, which was still rioting up in the heavens. And 
before they went, they shed a cataract of rain on the already half-drowned earth. But 
at last they were all gone, and by the time the stars were beginning to peep timidly 
out, the clouds were as filmy as cobwebs, but torn into every fantastic remnant. 

The wind began to sigh like a troubled heart, as if sorrowful for the wild ruin it hg 1 
spread, and as it sighed it died away in little gushes of tears. 

Gently and solemnly rose the pale and quiet moon, edged with a pe?r'<y rim ; and is 
she gazed down on the heaving sea, cleft into caverns, and rising inlu tumultucas 
snow-capped hills, the great ocean seemed to tremble with love of her beamy, .* -ad 
strove to calm his wild rage. 

And there was rest and peace that night in the Palace of Luff. 

The day broke over the sea calm and soft, clad in gray, like a pilgrim. Wa i it 
mourning for those who had not lived to see it rise? 

The tender-hearted girls could not but think that there might be more tombstones 
added to the sad number already filling the church-yard at Exe — added because of this 
storm, which was to be registered evermore in their lives as an epoch, a time, that 
could never be forgotten. 

Mrs. Spooner, exhausted by her fears and privations, was in bed. Mrs. Joscelyn was 
assisting Susan to look over the stores, for it must be two days at least before they 
could expect a boat to come to them. 

The waves were still rolling into the bay mountains high, and it must be that time 
before the sea would settle down, so as to permit a boat to come with any safety. And, 
if it should take a longer period, they must be prepared to husband their resources, at 
all events. 

Mrs. Joscelyn looked grave, and Susan aghast, at the little they had left of every- 
thing but meat. One loaf of bread, a few handfuls of flour, a reasonable quantity of 
rice, no vegetables, no tea, no sugar. Fortunately they had both honey and preserves. 

“ Now, Susan,” said Mrs. Joscelyn, “ what we shall require most is bread. You have 
some ground rice, and a few potatoes, and arrow-root. Boil the potatoes, run them 
through the wire sieve, and mix them with all the flour you have, the ground rice and 
arrow-root. Anything else that you can add, pray do.” 

“ We hev a tin of paternt floor for rolls, mum.” 

“ The best thing in the world. Join that with the others, and make as many loaves 
out of it as you can. It will be odd bread ; but it is the best you can make. Any 
eggs?” 

“Not a shell, mum. Mussus Spooner hev been a-heving hof ’em beat hup in wine, 
mum, most twice a day.” 

“ Then roast the piece of beef.” 

“I hev plenty o’ horseradish, mum!” interrupted Susan, triumphantly. 

“ Very good ; and give us a milky rice pudding.” 

“Where be the shuggar, mum?” 

“ Honey will do.” 


112 


LORDS* AND LADIES. 


Susan was one of tliose characters who have certain laws and rules for everything. 
She was peculiar about her rice puddings, for which she had a name. 

“ Honey, mum ! how be I to know how much honey ool do ? ” 

“You must guess.” 

“ A tay-spune, may be ? ” 

“ Yes — a teaspoonful.” 

“ Or a taycoop? ” 

“ No ; that is too much.” 

“ I can’t go for to do it, mum, without I Imows dizactly.” 

“ Nonsense, Susan — don’t tease me with your whims ! ” 

Now, Mrs. Joscelyn had said precisely what Susan desired. She was ripe for a fit oj 
Ill-humor, and only wanted an excuse to indulge in one.” 

“ Tease you, mum I Well, when I teases my missus, hit’s time as my missus and me 
should part. Tease j"OU, mum ! — ho ! that’s it ! ” 

“ Don’t be foolish, Susan, but go on with your work.” 

And Mrs. Joscelyn left the kitchen with a' heightened color, evidently seriously dis- 
pleased. 

And well* she might. It was an unlooked for finale of the dreadful storm in tlm 
elements that had alarmed, almost appalled them, to have a teacup storm in the kitchen. 
Mrs. Joscelyn was conscious how slender was the safeguard between them and a most 
pitiable, exposed, dangerous condition; and was still overflowing with gratitude to 
the Almighty, who had “ stilled the winds and the tempest.” She was vexed that any 
one under her charge should forget the feelings proper for such a time, and think only 
of her own tempers and follies. 

But, alas ! Mrs. Joscelyn’s lament over the ill-timed petulance of one of her subjects 
was not the only thing to be deplored. 

Susan, blind with anger, forgot that crockery is not iron, and crack went the milk- 
jug, the only one, with the force with which she thumped it on the table. 

“ Jest as if yer couldn’t hae minded yersel better nor that! ” she exclaimed to the 
unconscious fragments, as she picked them up, and threw them, with an angry jerk, 
into the fire. 

They fell into a basin of milk, just boiling up for Miss Bessie’s use. 

“ Ugh ! ye baste, coom oot of that I ” 

And she dashed the contents of the pan into a basin that she saw, too late, con- 
tained the ground rice that was to help to eke out their bread. Aware of the conse- 
quences of this disaster, she hastily tried to arrest the progress of the boiling milk, 
which caused it, in the rebound, to spirkle up into her face, and scald her painfully. 
In her agony, away went the pan to the other end of the kitchen, and, as evil hap 
would have it, it alighted on the bag of flour, and poured itself out upon the last hope 
of bread they had. 

Susan, blind with pain, saw not this terrible misfortune, otherwise her susceptible 
feelings as a cook would have overcome her bodily pangs as a woman. It was only 
when, attracted by her cries, her mistress ran in to see what could be the matter, that 
this catastrophe was discovered. 

It cured Susan in a minute. She bathed her scalded face with cold water, would 
not hear of applying the last of the flour as a remedy, begged her mistress’s pardon, 
and set to work to slave and make amends. She refused to be comforted and consoled 
by the sight of a whole tin of captain’s biscuits’ unopened. 

Her mistress had ordered bread, and bread they should have ! How she managed it 
is only known to Susan herself; but at tea there appeared a large and beautifui loaf 
of new bread. Of course they ate but sparingly of it, taking each just sufficient to 
compliment ” Susan, as they phrased it, and made biscuits do the rest of the wmrk. 
■\Yhen Mrs. Joscelyn went into the kitchen after tea, to express her approbation of 
Susan’s cflbrts, she found that penitent individual imitating the storm — the violence 
of her fit of temper was going off in a good cry. 

Knowing the efficacy of the remedy, Mrs. Joscelyn returned to her companions, feel- 
ing much comforted in the idea that she had now only one more week to pass at Puff; 
that the wmrst that could happen to them was now past, and that, without flattering 
herself too much, she had reasonable hopes that they should keep the peace towmrds 
_ each other, so nearly touching the goal of their hopes. It was almost beyond the 
bound of probability that they should now require to raise the flag for help, and it was 
nearly as impossible that for this short period she and her companions should quarrel 
and separate. 

With a light heart and a buoyant step, her face a true index of the lovely sunset, 
Mrs. Joscelyn entered the room. She always brought a sort of sunshine with her, but 
all were attracted by the sweet smile and serene happiness now expressed on it. 

“ Has the boat come?” asked Clara. 

“ Or the gentlemen?” murmured Mrs. Spooner, looking very much washed out. 

“ ’* began Kate, and stopped abruptly, blushing scarlet. 


113 


“luff it is.” 


“ No — no — no/’ answered Mrs. Joscelyn, turning to each. 

“ I was merely thinking this was our last week. I am afraid I shall have to record 
in the journal that I am glad.” 

Mrs. Spooner instantly burst into a flood of tears; Clara colored with indignation; 
Kate looked up in dismay ; while Miss Bessie openly exclaimed, — 

“ Oh ! mamma, how wicked of you ! ” 

“ I did not think, after all — I had tried to do ” sobbed Mrs. Spooner, “ to please 

you, that 3^011 — you ” here her feeflings became too strong for speech. 

Mrs. Joscelyn, after a moment’s dismay, began to laugh. 

“ Do you know,” she said, “ I was thus happy because I'was felicitating myself that 
we had passed the worst ill we could have? We were not likely to quarrel and sep- 
arate the last week, and that, therefore, our trial was virtually over — we had nothing 
more to fear. If the boat comes on Wednesday, it is quite impossible we should have 
any want that would oblige us to hoist the flag for help. Do you not understand? 
That is why I am glad.” 

“Did you anticipate that we should hoist the flag? ” asked Clara. 

“ I have had a presentiment that we should do so before we left, which was so strong 
that I really dreaded it. The reason I laugh now is, that I thought it impossible we 
should quarrel in this short space, and, before my thoughts had fled, see how I ofiended 
you all, how very near we are to having a serious misunderstanding.” 

“You must allow,” began Mrs. Spooner, “ we had reason.” 

“ Yes, you had reason — will that content j^ou? I expressed myself badly. I apolo- 
gize.” 

The queen was kissed by all her subjects in token of forgiveness, and, in a very 
short time they were all absolutely expressing the same sentiments as herself, viz., 
they were glad this was tlie last week, and not all, I lament to say, from similar feel- 
ingk There was an undercurrent of private wishes and hopes, of which it is just as 
well to say nothing for the present. 

“ How quickly a quarrel can be hatched and brewed ! ” observed Clara, as they were 
all seated round the fire about nine o’clock in the evening, Bessie having retired to bed. 

Though they had a fire, the windows were all open. Never was there seen or felt a 
more lovely and delicious night. 

“ Yes ; and how true is the text, ‘ A soft answer turneth away wrath.’ ” 

“ And how quickly you said it, Mrs. Joscelyn.” 

“ If one has to apologize, ’tis best to do it at once, Arabella. All my life I have 
found the advantage of an immediate frankness, a sort of tearing aside the motives of 
a quarrel. They generally have such random beginnings, they will not easily bear 
investigation.” 

“ I have heard it rumored,” said Clara, “that you and Mr. Joscelyn would not have 
been married, had it not been for your openness and faith in each other.” 

“ I dare say Mr. Summers told you that.' Well, it is entirely against my feelings as 
a woman to show up another woman, but I will tell you my little tale if you wish it.” 

“ Oh ! of all things, nothing we should like better.” 

“ Then, pray do me the favor to imagine I am improvising a story for 3"our amuse- 
ment, and dismiss it from your minds as reality. In the first place, you will readily 
a^ree to this when you hear it, as it is almost impossible to believe such a strange 
mind should be possessed by a human being. ‘ Truth is stranger than fiction.’ 

Nearly all the evening was consumed with Mrs. Joscelyn’s story, in which the first 
meeting, the proposal, the forged letters written by a jealous woman to break oflT the 
engagement are exposed, and the happy ending — “the marriage” — is consum- 
mated. All were delighted with it. 

“ Thank goodness, there is no chance of hoisting that flag now! ” 

“The sea is going down so steadily, that I think we may look for the boat to- 
morrow.” , ^ . , . . „ 

“ I hear from my friends, in last week’s letters, that Rampton is on the qui vive for 
our return. They hope and pray that we shall win, but they think we shall be almost 
dead with fatigue and privation.” 

“ We must give a ball, to show ourselves off, I think; for I hope we shaU look so 
blooming as to be complimented.” 

“ If it had not been for that dreadful storm, I never should have felt better ; but I am 


sadlv pulled down by fright and exhaustion.” 

“ We must nurse you up, Arabella, for the next few days, 
party look ill! ” ^ . 


I cannot have any of my 


15 


114 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


CHAPTER XV. 

PUFF ! PUFF ! 


We left our dear Puffs rejoicing in the anticipation of having a good cook. 

The squire rose, after an indifferent night passed upon two chairs, in good spirits 
notwithstanding. 

“ I regard,” said he to his fellow-sufferer, Spooner, who had bivouacked in a corner of 
the room, and seemed so comfortable he had no inclination to rise, “ I regard that fellow 
Scruttlcs as one entire falsehood from head to foot. I doubt even if his name is Scrut- 
tles. I hated the sight of him ; and why I was such a blockhead as to give him five 
shillings, is beyond my comprehension.” 

“I doubt,” mumbled Spooner, from under a mass of great-coats, “ if he w^as well 
brought up. From his very infancy I fancy his psychological structure was weak in 
desisting temptation.” 

“ Doubt anything you like — the place has a different aspect to me now he has gone. 
I am off for my bath, Spooner ; and don’t forget we want this room for breakfast. I will 
open the doors and windows at once.” 

Which was so effectually done by the squire, Mr. Spooner made a merit of necessity, 
and rose from his lair. Indeed the saloon was now the Temple of Eolus. 

He was gravely consulting his whiskers as to which shooting-coat he should put on, 
when he heard a shout. 

The shout was the shout of the squire I 

Was he taken with the cramp, and drowning? 

Mr. Spooner good-naturedly put off the question about his coat, and ran out just as 
he was to his assistance. He was joined by all the others, as a shout from the squire 
was no joke. 

They were rejoiced to see he was not only on terra firma, but nothing the matter with 
him, except a lit of excitement. 

“ The boat ! — the boat I ” he shouted again, though they 'were close at hand ; “ and, 
by Jove I there is a woman in it I ” 

A woman ! ” 

“ A female ! ” 

“ A lady ! ” 

“ I don’t know which — but ’tis something with a bonnet on.” 

“Arabella, perhaps, come for me.” 

“ It is not Elizabeth — the bonnet is too large. There ! — there I — now vou can see 
it!” • 


“ Suppose Muggs has sent us a woman-cook I ” observed Frank, calmly. 

“By heavens!” said Spooner, who the smaller the circumstance the more largely 
apostrophized it; “ Muggs has sent us a woman-cook! ” 

“ She shall not land here ! ” growled Crab, who this morning had a purple hue over 
his nob of a nose, and was altogether in a saturnine and gloomy mood. 

“We must have a cook ! ” said the squire. 

“ But if she lands here we lose the challenge I ” 

The squire stood as if transfixed into stone. In about a minute he rallied sufficiently 
to walk towards the house. 

Presently he returned. 

“ I must have my bedding out of the boat, whatever happens I ” 

“ I will take care of that, for mine is coming too.” 

How the important affair was arranged with the lady in the large bonnet the sauire 
never inquired. ^ 

He heard shrill tones, that had a sound in them of an appeal for mercy, by which he 
inferred the digestion of the woman-cook had been much disturbed bv her vovao-e and 
' she desired to land and die ! j j a i 


This modest request was of course refused by King Crab. If she meant dying, it was 
quite as easy to do the business on board the boat as on shore. 

So, after a brief bobbing up and down on the inexorable waves, while the beddino- 
and stores were landed, the bonnet and its owner departed the wav they came, and, as 
King Crab grimly announced, — “ The shores off Puff are unpolluted ! ” 

In default of other help, the squire was girt with one of Sam’s aprons, and sat down 
CO sneii peas. 


and a persevering, and contrived to show a good dishful at the end of an hour 

“ without thinking of the poor kitchen-maid. 
What hard work it is I ” wiping his brow. maiu. 


puff! puff! 115 

Sam made a noise, but strangled the inclination at the same moment, out of respect. 

The squire demanded an explanation. 

“ The girls be fond of pea-shelling; they sits and chats, and shell a’most as fast as 
they tongues go. And if they gets a boy to ’elp, why, there is funl ” 

The squire did not see how there could be any fun in it. He went to offer further 
help, and found Spooner with his eyes nearly burnt out of his head, and his face like 
raw beef, stirring some compound over the fire. 

“ Don’t, squire, don’t come near me — I am at the crisis ! ” 

“ Why, your whiskers are on fire ! ” 

“ No ! ” exclaimed the unhappy Spooner, dropping pan and spoon, and clutching hold 
of those beloved appendages, and drawing them within range of sight. 

The squire, though mischievous, was alive to any contretemps in the cooking line ; so 
he caught pan and spoon just in time. 

“ Oh ! — oh ! you are stirring the wrong way, squire ; it will never thicken now.” 

But it did. 

Finding he was more in the way than not, the squire betook himself to the lookout, 
and was gratified by perceiving the boat again on its way to them. He strode down to 
impart the news. 

“Any bonnets?” asked King Crab, who was suffering from rheumatism in the left 
shoulder, and was nursing it over the fire. 

“No, not a bit of ribbon.” 

Again the squire departed, and again returned. 

“ It appears to me as if two cooks were coming.” 

“ You see double,” said the captain, with a feeble smile. 

The squire left without an answer, and in five minutes rushed in, breathless and 
excited. 

“ It is that beast Scruttles I — he shall not land ! ” 

“ Why should he not? ” answered Crabshawe, who suddenly revived on hearing his 
“ excellent convict” was at hand. His rheumatic attack was, after all, only the effect 
of moping for Scruttles. 

“ If he lands, I go back in the boat I ” 

“He has probably only come for his clothes and wages,” interposed Sir George. 

“ Wages? I gave him five shillings, and that’s just about five shillings more than he 
is worth. Well, I shall go off with my gun until he has had what he wauts, and is 
gone again. I hate the sight of the fellow ! ” 

It was truly the “excellent convict,” more abject than ever. He “ ’umbly begged 
parding,” and tried very hard to be restored to favor. 

“Wages w^ere no objec’, leastways, it were a pleasure to serve such noble gents for 
nuflin. He were aware has he were much to blame.” 

Of course. King Crab would have forgiven him at once, but the others represented 
that the wrath of the squire was not a thing to be lightly encountered. 

Having promised himself to go home in the boat if Scruttles remained, he would 
doubtless keep the promise. 

So, greatly to the discomfiture of the repentant Scruttles, he was hustled off 
back again to the boat. Not, however, without a bundle of clothes that w^as truly 
surprising. 

Frank was not at hand to investigate its contents ; in fact, he was looking every- 
where for a couple of chickens that, but a short time before, he had placed upon the 
kitchen table. 

Finding that he really was to go, Scruttles had skipped off pretty nimbly to the boat 
with his bundle, and was half way home again before the idea struck Frank that the 
missing fowls made part of that bundle of clothes. 

There was no help for it. 

But the troubles of our gentlemen were not at an end. 

The new cook, instead of cooking the dinner, sat down in the midst of his kitchen 
and tore his hair. ' 

It was at this juncture that the squire -returned to the house. 

“ What a ’ole !” exclaimed the new cook; “where’s myhoven? ’ow ham hi to cook 
with nothink ’andy?” 

Fortunately the squire knew the man; he had employed him at Deep-Cliffs more 
than once. Also, formerly, he had lived with Sir George, and was not without hopes 
of living with him again. So, finding it to be worth his while to make some exertion 
toward^ preparing a dinner even out of “nothink,” he proceeded to make the best of 

what he had. ^ 

Extremes meeting, by the time dinner was over, and he had been complimented unon 
his skill, he was now as eager to make the best of everything as the most confirifled 

Puffite among them. , , , , ^ . . xi • 

“ But,” said he confidentially to his masters, who had summoned him to receive their 


116 


LORDS AND LADIES 


thanks in a body for some first-rate cofiee, “ hi ’ope you will hallow me, gentlemen, to 
send fur a few necessaries. 

“ Of course, my good fellow, you shall have whatever you require,” vouched the 
squire. 

Tlie gentlemen had had their rubber, they were now indulging in their last pipe. 
King Crab was still sleeping the sleep of the thirsty, when the list of the new cook’s 
wants was brought in. 

It was composed, spelt, and written under the joint amount of learning possessed 
by the cook and Sam. It was a portentous document, and the very first item posed all 
the readers. 

“ Shores ! what are shores? I never heard of anything like shores being cooked ! ” 

They sent for an explanation, and were pleased to find “ shores ” was an original 
way of spelling “ skewers.” 

Isinglass was another item totally incomprehensible, and twelve dozen eggs made 
into one word, with very few of the proper letters, was as mystical to our four gentle- 
men as High Dutch might be. 

“ But, hullo ! what is this, the end of all? ” 

They all eagerly looked, and all exclaimed almost with one voice, — 

“ A kitchen-maid ! — spelt ‘ cinching-made.’ ” 

“ That’s impossible, you know,” was the next exclamation. 

Frank having undertaken to curtail the cook’s wants, and to express to him the utter 
impossibility of obtaining the last item, the “ cinching made,” the party separated and 
went to bed. 

The next morning the squire was busy cleaning his gun, when the news came that 
the boat had arrived. 

“ Bring me my letters, please,” said he ; “ I am too busy to come myself.” 

He was just putting the finishing stroke to the operation, highly satisfied with the 
manner in which he had done it, when there smote upon his ear a sound that made 
him believe himself bewitched. 

Axing your pardiug, sir, yer honor, I ’umbly ’opes yer honor’s well in ’elth, sir.” 

“ Scruttles — you ” 

“It be poor Scruttles, sir, yer honor. I missed seeing yer noble honor yesterday, I 
be cum to ax your parding, sir, yer honor.” 

In spite of himself there was something so forlornly abject and miserable about the 
“ excellent convict,” the squire had not the heart to say a rough word to him. 

■ “ Did you get your wages yesterday? ” 

“I didn’t go fur to luik fur wages, axing yer honor’s parding. I ’umbly begs for- 
giveness. 

“Make no more excuses ; I forgive you. Now get along, and go home with you.” 

“ I will, yer honor ; and I ’umbly thanks yer honor.” 

“ Here, go along, and take these five shillings. Don’t let me see your face again at 
Puff, or I’ll have you sent oflT to jail.” 

The squire felt himself under the necessity to use this threat, in order to cover the 
weakness which made him send another five shillings after the first five. 

He had an inward conviction he was doing a foolish thing, consequently he shoul- 
dered his newly-cleaned gun, and marched oflT for a solitary war against the gulls. He 
felt he could not face his companions with his usual bold front, conscious of having 
done a silly thing. When he rejoined them, he found the boat was expected again the 
next morning, with the modified list of the cook’s wants, and a boy to act as kitchen- 
maid. 

The cook again so distinguished himself, that he was again summoned, as before, to 
receive the public thanks of the Pufiites after dinner. 

“ When hi ’as my maid, vich hi ’ear his to be a boy, then, gentlemen, you shall see 
what you shall see.” 

“ Can you make us a cream or two ? — something in the confectionary line, I mean?” 
asked Spooner. 

“ Ho ! yes, sir.” 

“ And entrees? — and entremets?** 

“ Ho yes ! Sir George.” 

“ A beefsteak-pudding, I fancy? ” 

“ Ho ! yes, squire.” 


“ I dare say you cannot give me a basin of gruel now? ” 

“ Ho ! yes, capting.” 

King Crab was, without any doubt, very unwell. He was incapable of saying a civil 
word to any one of his subjects. ' b 

lu^fy rude to Frank^ squire, scofied at Sir George, growled at Spooner, and was abso- 

j They were lenient towards him, and only went near him when obliged. 

On Wednesday morning, about ten o’clock, the gentlemen being all up stairs making 


PUFF ! PUFF ! 


117 


their beds, they'lieard their king discoursing in so cheerful a voice, they were one and 
all surprised. 

Had he suddenly beeome so much better that he was enabled to speak cheerfully to 
Sam, or exchange an amiable sentiment with the cook? — two people whose names he 
would not suffer over night to be mentioned in his presence — the hearing them seem- 
ing to make his rheumatism worse. 

“ Who were you talking to just now. Crab? ” asked the squire over the banisters. 

“ To the new kitchen-maid,” was the surprising answer. 

“So the boat has come? Well, I am only going to empty the basin out of the 
window, and I wdll be down to see her.” 

The unconscious squire strode down the stairs, across the saloon, through the 
corridor, and was met face to face at the kitchen door by Scruttles, begirt with an 
apron. 

“ I be cum, axing yer honor’s parding, has kitchen-maid ! ” 

The squire said not a word, but turned on his heel, rcmarched through the corridor, 
across the saloon, up to his room, and began to open his drawers, and pull out his 
portmanteau. 

“ Gracious heavens ! squire, what is the matter?” 

“ Scruttles has come back as kitchen-maid — I am going home.” 

“But how will 3^011 get home ? ” 

“ True ; where is the boat? — perhaps it is not gone to far.” 

He ran for his life, snatching up the first thing at hand as a signal flag. It was his 
night-shirt, consequently of a good size. 

The boat, though a mile on its way home, caught the sound of the squire’s shout com- 
ing across the water, and, beholding the energetic waving of the night-shirt, obeyed 
the signal and returned. Meantime horror and dismay fell upon the rest of the Puffites. 
They had passed the half, and the w’orst half, of the important month ; they had become 
accustomed to their lives ; they were feeling imbued with the hope of triumph. To 
have endured so much for nothing, with the prospect of having nothing but pleasuvj 
for the rest of the time, was too much to forego. 

Even Sir George joined in the chorus, and exclaimed, — 

“ For heaven’s sake, don’t let us lose the challenge for a beast like Scruttles ! ” 

King Crab felt, and it entered like iron into his soul, that he must obey the voice of 
the multitude. Not that the squire formed part of that multitude; he was in his own 
room packing his trunk. 

Before he had made up his mind, Scruttles was once more handed into the boat, and 
Frank hastened with lively steps to assure the squire he was gone, and personally to 
assist in restoring his wardrobe to its proper place. The squire made no outward 
demonstration of his relief. 

But he looked out of the window, and caught a glimpse of the retreating Scruttles, 
who, standing upright in the boat, seemed to be apostrophizing Puff with defiance and 
hatred. 

“ I declare, the fellow is angry!” quoth the squire, quite pleased. 

“ Oh ! 3^es — he showed his true colors, I can tell you,” answered Frank, “ when he 
found he really was to go. His language was dreadful, and I have no doubt, had he an 
opportunity, he would no more mind putting us ‘ by,’ than I should of killing this wasp.” 

“ What do you mean, Frank, by putting us by ? ” 

“ Did you not hear of his handsome ofler to me, confidentially made, over some soup 
we were concocting together? ‘ Sir, Mr. Summers,’ says he, ‘I have that respec’, sir, 
Mr. Summers, for yes, that hif so be has you wants hanyone put by, I wull do it hand- 
some.’ That is, if I had an enemy, Scruttles would kindly shoot him for me.” 

“ The wretch ! ” but the squire had no time for more — there were sounds of wailing 
below. 

They were from the cook. Nowhere could he find his larded sweetbreads, all prepared 
for cooking; not a sign to be discovered of a beautiful dish of cutlets to be served with 
sauce a la Tartare I 

Frank thought he had been veiy clever in seeing that Scruttles had departed without 
a bundle — empty-handed ; but he forgot that he might have pockets 1 

On Thursday morning the day broke gray and austere ; a hollow murmur from the 
sea spoke of some inward commotion disturbing its lowest depths. The birds flew as 
if scared or seeking shelter. Nature seemed scarcely to breathe, lest she should awaken 
some convulsion. 

Four of the gentlemen had gone to meet the boat, that was bringing them some more 
necessaries — as well as the boy who was to act as kitchen-maid. 

If there should chance to be any sign of the ubiquitous Scruttles, they were there all 
ready to prevent his landing. 

Much to their secret surprise, he was not.. In his place sat a nice-looking, rosy-faced, 


good-humored boy. , « , , , , 

They were, however, so far justified in their fears, that Scruttles had made an at- 


118 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


tempt to come as one of the crew ; but the two boatmen had positively refused his offer 
of taking an oar. 

“It is brewing up dirty weather,” said one of them, “ so the house-keeper at Deep 
Clifls has sent her master a few extrays. It may be as we can’t get over for a day or 
two. We told that fellow we darsn’t bring him for our lives.” 

So the gentlemen saw the boat depart with feelings much akin to those they experi- 
enced on their first arrival at Puflf. Once more they were about to be cut off from inter- 
course with the world. 

But they had this advantage — they knew what they had to expect. The had experi- 
enced what it was to be left to themselves — dependent on each other for everything. 

' To their own honor, be it recorded, they were not alarmed at the prospect. On the 
contrary, they returned to their king and their palace, whistling and singing, in the 
gayest of spirits. 

“Let us be off and have an hour or two’s shooting, before the rain comes on,” sug- 
gested the squire. 

King Crab, tired of his own company, decided to accompany them, though he shivered 
and shook as if in an ague. 

The day grew darker and more grim — the wind began to blow in great gusts — the 
sea moaned with a sullen roar. Sharp scuds of rain came slanting downwards, making 
our gentlemen turn hastily homewards, and then ceasing, as if by magic, just as they 
had gone a few yards. 

Frank ran up to the lookout, and anxiously gazed at Luff in the distance. 

Sir George followed him. 

“ How like a great evil demon that black cloud lies just over Luff, Frank I He seems 
lying flat in the sky ; his huge shoulders and folded arms encircling that round bit that 
will do for his head ; and two openings in it that are like two demon eyes glowering 
down.” 

“ Yes ; that cloud has taken a curious, horrid shape. I am a little alarmed for them 
at Luff. The house is so frail, and these summer storms are often so violent.” 

“If it is a bad storm we shall have to go over in the boat, and see if they require 
assistance.” 

“ So we must, George — that is a very good idea.” 

“ Here comes another storm! I think it is as well we cut home, Frank.” 

They met the other gentlemen at the door of their palace. King Crab looking bluer 
and uglier for his wetting. 

And now occurred an incident that ought to be recorded, and which the gentlemen, 
when they read these lines, should blush as they read. 

They turned into the kitchen merely to exchange a friendly word with the cook — to 
smell H they could what was preparing for dinner ; and to learn how the new kitchen- 
maid performed her duties. They were all smoking vigorously. 

The cook, the amiable cook, instead of receiving them as usual with a benevolent 
smile, flew at them, auger flashing from his eye, the basting-pin flourishing in his hand, 
like the most deadly of weapons. 

“ Hout I — hout I ” he exclaimed, in a peremptory and disrespectful manner. “ Don’t 
ye cum ’ere a-smoking and segarring, and a-flavoring of my creams and confectionary 
with yer nasty tibaccar I Hout ! — hout I I say ! ” 

And out they went, quickly, meekly, hurriedly, like a parcel of naughty school-boys. 

Were they driven in that rude manner from a certain dining-room for smokin^? 

Were they not asked by a sweet, a beseeching voice, accompanied by a smUe that 
only a brute could behold unmoved, to refrain from smoking in that beautiful and fresh 
dining-room ? 

They remembered nothing about it. Indeed, so far from resenting this rude and per- 
emptory prohibition to smoke, the squire said, when out of hearing, — 

“ Now that is a fellow I like ; he is particular. I can fancy the flavor of tobacco, in 
such delicate things as creams and jellies, not gootl — in fact I am glad he turned us 
out. I shall take care, now, never to go into the kitchen with my cigar lighted.” 

Oh ! Squire Joscelyn, did no good spirit whisper in your ear, that an odor of tobac(jo 
in a sweet and elegant room was as unsuited to it as to creams and jellies ? Did noth- 
ing prompt you to remember how unjust you were to Mrs. Joscel3m in that matter ? 
No, nothing of the sort seemed to twinge the squire’s conscience. He dressed for din- 
ner, Vr’liistling most of the time. He did not even think of the storm, which now be^an 
to rage. ® 

The house at Puff was not only much better built than that at Luff, but was sheltered 
by the great cliff that formed part of its chambers and walls. In fact, the flashes of 
lightning and the pealing of the thunder alone made them conscious of its violence ; 
and but for the anxiety that began to grow in their minds as to how the ladies were 
ukely to fare, they cared nothing for the storm. 

They struggled up to the lookout on Friday, but though drenched to the skin. 


puff! puff! 119 

they were not rewarded for their pains by being permitted the slightest glimpse of 
Luff. 

It seemed as if the sea had gone up into the clouds, or, at all events, as if ocean and 
heaven were all massed together. 

The time appeared to Mng heavily with these apoiable “lords.” The journal was 
scrawled about with every conceivable conceit. There was a picture of the squire 
sleeping on a chair. It could almost be said you saw the snore coming out of his open 
lips in a bodily shape. There -was a group of four people at whist — time marked be- 
low as four o’clock in the afternoon. Then this same party was taken again in different 
places — time marked, “Two o’clock; just had luncheon.” Once more were these fa- 
mous whist-players depicted, and underneath was written, “ Eleven o’clock, breakfast 
just over ! ” Thus it may be inferred the game of whist formed their chief solace and 
occupation. 

There tvere many illustrations of the crab tribe in the journal; almost all of these 
having a remarkable likeness to a human face, which face was by no means handsome. 
Some wore crowns over their bead-like eyes ; some had their claws bound up, with the 
remark, “ A crab with the rum-atics ! ” One larger, more hideous than the rest -was so 
unfortunate as to appear to be suffering from the toothache. Crab though he was, en- 
cased ill a good stout shell, agony was visible in his expressive stomach — for that did 
part duty for a face — and every claw seemed convulsed with pain. 

There were many receipts written down of those dishes that pleased them most dur- 
ing this lamentable time. As for adventures, they had none to tell. Even that learned 
professor, Spooner, had used up all the hard words he possessed, and had interlined, 
altered, and corrected his sonnet to the moon, so tlTht there was no possibility of making 
head'or tail of it. He is even at a loss, himself, to know what he meant to say in the 
second and ninth lines. 

It may be as well to give, at this time, that excellent receipt for a breakfast pate, 
promised to the public, and my dear reader, some little time back, and obtained from 
the house-keeper at Deep-Cliffs as a prodigious favor. 

“ Breakfast Pate. — A light-colored calf’s liver cut into pieces about an inch square ; 
cut the same quantity of fot and lean bacon ; a small piece of butter ; small quantities 
of salt, pepper, spice, parsley, and shalot, chopped fine ; fry all these together gently 
over a slow fire, stirring the ingredients constantly. 

“ When thoroughly done, drain off the fat, and put the foregoing into a mortar, and 
pound it well ; season it highly. Bone and skin the game ; cut it into pieces ; lay it on 
the bottom of a stewpan, with a little butter under it to make it firm; do not let it get 
brown. When sufficiently done, season with cayenne, salt, a little clove, allspice, and 
black pepper. Put a layer of the force-meat or pounded mixture on the bottom of a 
pate dish, then a layer of game, and so on, until the dish is full. The upper layer must 
be force-meat. Put the dish into a stewpan of water on the fire, to steam for two or 
three hours, according to the size of the dish. 

“ When done, press it round with a spoon, and fiatten it close ; have ready some clar- 
ified butter ; pour on sufficient to penetrate all through it. 

“ When cold, run lard over the top. 

“ Chicken, turkey, rabbit, make thispaie almost, if not quite as good as game. 

“ It will keep some time.’* 

On Saturday, the third day of the storm, the rheumatism that had been flying about 
King Crab’s frame, settling like a swarm of wasps, first on one knee, then on the back 
of his neck, down to the other knee, up again to the left shoulder-blade, now seemed to 
have taken entire possession of his whole body. 

That disregard for a superfluity of raiment in which he had prided himself on first 
coming to Puff, was, no doubt, praiseworthy. But it had its inconveniences. He was 
not able to change his garments as often as prudence required. This, probably, was 
the real secret of his rheumatic pains, added to which, he really was too old to rough 
it. Not so much, perhaps, in point of years, as that his blood did not flow in that genial 
and Iiealthy inanner that enables a man to take liberties with his constitution, and yet 
not injure it. 

Captain Crabshawe’s temperament was of that bilious, sluggish sort, it was wholly 
incapable of throwing off a chill by its own efforts. He had no more warmth in him 
than a moonbeam on a December night. 

He thought to remove the chill out of his marrow by constant potations of hot brandy 
and water. This remedy upset the economy of his liver, so that he really was nearly as 
ill as he felt. 

On this Saturday evening, moved by his plaints, Frank improvised a sofa for him in 
the saloon. 

Though he was too ill to eat any dinner, Spooner assured him cheerfully that he would 
be amused seeing them enjoy theirs. 

It is our painful duty to record, it afforded him no amusement whatever. On the 
contrary his pains and aches seemed to increase the more hilarious they became. 


120 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


Of all the remedies that past generations have invented and immortalized as a cure 
for melancholy, megrims, dumps, and vapors, none appear so effectual as a good dinner. 
Our four friends ate and drank, enjoyed every dish, and toasted each other with an utter 
disregard of the weather, and a most unfeeling indifference to the state of King Crab’s 
bones. 

He refrained from demanding too much sympathy while they dined, from an inward 
conviction it would be useless' to ask it. But when they arose from the table of feast- 
ing, only to return to the table of whist, it was too aggravating. Not the most ailing 
woman that ever existed, with her nerves all vibrating in a state of agonized sensitive- 
ness, ever longed for and demanded sympathy with a keener relish, than this gallant 
upholder of male superiority. 

Thus, not a single deal was played in peace. If his friends did not feel his bodily 
pains as acutely as himself, at all events they should share the dolor they gave him. 

The squire good-naturedly got up once or twice and attempted the office of nurse, 
in adjusting his cushions, but his elephantine touches made the sensitive invalid bawl 
for mercy. 

Sir George went up stairs and brought him his pet novel, into the third volume of 
which he was himself deeply plunged. 

Spooner and Frank took turns to recommend him all the remedies that ever were 
heard of. 

Failing to ease his pains, mentally or bodily, and the squire becoming too confused 
with all these interruptions to go on playing, they all simultaneously recommended a 
good dose of bed to the unfortunate captain. 

The next day being Sunday, his subjects strongly recommended King Crab to try the 
effect of a whole day in bed. He acquiesced. 

He was the more amenable to their advice, because he knew that it would be a very 
dull day for them down stairs. The squire would, probably, suggest some prayers, 
which, in the present state of the captain’s nerves, he felt would add to his ailments ; 
there would be alternate hours for literature, eating, and sleep. But as for whist, or 
any amusement of that sort, of course the day forbade it. So, as his subjects could not 
enjoy any great hilarity down stairs, the captain was content that they should indulge 
their weariness without him. They might be as melancholy as they pleased, but they 
were not to have any amusement unless he was by to share it as best he could. At 
first they were all very attentive to him, taking it in turns to run up and tell him all the 
news. 

The squire informed him what was likely to be for dinner, but his voice was so loud, 
and his ways so restless, that the invalid declared he made his head ache. 

Spooner crept into the sick-room, with creaking shoes and whispering voice, detail- 
ing, in murmured tones, how beautifully the clouds were being swept from the vault of 
heaven by a resistless power, and how delighted they all were to perceive the soft mes- 
sage or token of the ladies’ safety after the storm; for, with the help of a glass, they 
had the satisfaction of perceiving smoke issuing from every chimney in the palace of 
Luft'. After one or two of these friendly visits the invalid was moved by his pains and 
cramps to tell the amiable Spooner he hated the sight of his face, as he always left the 
door open after him. 

Sir George alone declined to go near him, on the plea that he might be sickening of 
an infectious fever. 

Therefore, on Frank, at last, devolved the whole business of nursing this prostrate 
monarch. He soothed him, condoled with him, brought him broth, tea, and ielly ; never 
mentioned the good dinner preparing below, shut the door carefully after him, and bore 
all the little spits of temper with unfailing good humor. 

They got through the day pretty well. 

Monday, they were enabled to shoot and enjoy themselves out of doors. • 

The invalid still remained in bed ; Frank returned about four o’clock, to see if he re- 
quired anything, or thought of rising. While he was endeavoring to amuse King Crab 
with an account of their day’s sport, Sam put his nose in at the door, and said, — 

“ Please, Mr. Summers, you’re wanted to take a hand until dinner-time, as the gen- 
tlemen have corned back.” 

“ Unfeeling, heartless lot!” murmured King Crab; “you are my only consolation, 
Frank, and they take you from me ! I may be dying — I am dyino- ! ” 

“No, no; not the slightest fear of that; you are a little low and moped, nothin^ 
more.” ® 

“Why don’t they come here and play whist ? — it might amuse me a little to see 
them — that is, if anything can amuse me.” 

“ I will ask them, Crabshawe. I feel sure they will do everything to oblige you.” 

The amiable Frank was deceived. 

The three gentleman strongly objected to afford Captain Crabshawe even this mild 
second-hand sort of amusement. 


PUFF ! PUFF 1 121 

“ I shall not be able to attend to my game, if he keeps groaning all the time,” said 
the squire. 

‘‘ And he distinctly told me to my face he hated the sight of me,” remonstrated Spooner, 
while he ro ldened with anger at the recollection. 

“ We are mad to go near him until we know what is the matter with him,” said Sir 
George. 

“ He cannot be left alone,” demanded Frank of them all. 

“ Let Sam go and sit with him for an hour,” said the squire. 

“ Sam ! ” exclaimed Sir George ; “ suppose he catches the infection? ” 

“ You are just as likely, if there is infection, to catch it from me. So take Sam for 
your partner at whist — I will go back to Crabshawe ! ” 

“ Upon my word, Frank, you shame us all I I really am disgusted with myself! Come 
along, I will go and sit an hour with poor Crab mj^self; but I forget — he says my 
voice makes his brains hit against his skull until he does not know what he is about 1 ” 
“ I think we had better make up his sofa again, and get him down stairs for a 
while. He is only moped and crabby.” 

“ Very good; go and get him out of bed, and we will make a couch for him in a 
warm, snug corner, where he can see and hear all we do and say.” 

Frank took up an amiable and soothing message to King Crab from his subjects, 
which he received graciously, and suffered himself to answer in the affirmative. 

He was dressed and conveyed down stairs with much care by Frank, and experienced 
a melanchoiy joy at being warmiy received by the other gentiemen. 

He feit a great mitigation of his pains, as they vied with each other in helping to 
settl^ him in his corner; and was, upon the whoie, rather pieasant than otherwise this 
evening. To be sure, he would insist upon knowing who had the best hand ; what 
made this one laugh. In fact, he determined to be one of the whist party, whether or 
no. 

This was borne pretty well at first, but on Tuesday evening symptons of rebeliion 
again liroke out. He was so captious, so exacting, so universally unpleasant, that even 
Frank said, — 

“ Don’t you think, Crabshawe, it is time you were in bed? ” 

“ I am sure,” said the squire, “ you are very foolish to sit up so late ; and as for my 
cards, one would suppose they were influenced by the weather. I never held such rub- 
bish.” 

“ You think more of your cards than of me? ” 

“ By no means. Crab ; I shall be truly glad to know you are safe in bed.” 

“ Safe in bed ! say in my coffin, for that will be the end of it ! What a set of heart- 
less fellows you are ! A man dying by inches before your very eyes, and you think 
only of your whist ! Whist all day, and not five minutes to bestow on a dying man ! ” 
“ My dear Crab, don’t think so dismally as that ! I would do anything I could for you, 
ray dear fellow, but you seem quite alarmed whenever I come near you! ” 

“ You are so rough, squire.” 

“ I have no doubt of it. I am very rough ; I wish I was more tender for your sake. 
Crab.” 

“ You cannot bear the sight of my face you know, Crabshawe, or I am sure I would 
most wfllliiigly assist Frank to nurse you.” 

“ You shouldn’t heed a fellow when he is dying — in the agonies — he doesn’t know 
what he says ! ” 

“ Do go to bed. Crab ; it is tempting Providence to sit up any longer! ” 

“ I won’t go to bed ! I sha’n’t go to bed ! My only comfort is seeing you all ! ” 

But it is no comfort to us. We cannot do you any good — and you ” 

I understand — you may well hesitate — I am in your way — I prevent that ever- 
lasting whist. Now, I tell you what — I don’t mind confessing the fact.” 

Here King Crab rose up, and confronted his audience, looking, between ghastliness, 
want of soap and shaving, together with the loose arrangement of his dress, like an 
old Indian warrior badly painted. 

“ I don’t think,” he continued, with solemn emphasis, “ a woman would do it! ” 

“I don’t think she would. Crab,” answered the squire, kindly. “If Elizabeth was 
here, she would nurse you well in a brace of shakes.” 

“ Go for her,” gasped King Crab, sinking back on to his sofa, as if these words were 
about to be his last. 

They crowded round him. 

“ We will go,” said one and all. 

“ But not to-night,” remonstrated Frank. “ The ladies will all be gone to bed. The 
sea is still too high to venture to bring Mrs. Joscelyn without risk.” 

“ I will go to-morrow, my dear Crab,” added the squire. “ I will start at daybreak 
and bring Elizabeth back in no time. If ever a woman knew how to cure any sort of 
Ulness, Elizabeth is that woman. My dear Crab, I honor you for the thought.” 

IG 


122 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


And lie looked as if about to clap King Crab on the back, but that worthy gentleman 
seemed to fear the mark of approbation, and shrunk into his cushions with dread. 

“ So now, think once more whether it would not be as well to go to bed, Crab- 
shawe ? ” 

“ I will go, Frank. I would willingly live until morning. I should like to see Mrs. 
Joscelyn’s kind face again. She was always kind to me. Oh ! pity me ! — pity me ! 
what a pang ! ” 

“ Ila! never mind your pangs, Elizabeth will soon cure them. Good-night, my dear 
fellow, good-night; depend upon it. I’ll be otf the first thing.” 

So King Crab, assisted by Frank, and escorted by Sam, slowly craAvled olf to bed. 
As soon as he was safely deposited therein, Frank returned, leaving Sam as nurse. 

“ At what hour shall you start?” asked Sir George, as they sat once more down to 
whist. 

“ At dawn,” responded the squire, shortly. 

“ I mean to take an oar with you, squire, as Crab seems so anxious.” 

“ Very good. Spoon.” 

Mr. Spooner did not wince. He felt with the squire ; it was not a time to care for 
trifies. 

“I think I will do Crabshawe that little service too,” observed Sir George. “Natu- 
rally I do not like to go near him, for fear of infection; but going for Mrs. Joscelyn is 
a matter in which I can very well oblige the poor fellow.” 

“ That will be three oars. I suppose, Frank, you will the fourth? ” 

“ Only on condition that you start at a more reasonable hour. The ladies ought not 
to be disturbed out of their morning slumbers, because Crabshawe has, what I see 
he spells, the ‘ rumatism ’ ! ” 

“ Very true, Frank. Suppose we arrange to get there to breakfast? ” 

“ And suppose the ladies are not prepared to receive four hungry fellows to break- 
fast?” 

“Oh! pooh! — pooh! Even if they are not prepared, I will back Elizabeth to im- 
provise a breakfast in no time. But if you are going to make objections, we will take 
Sam.” 

“ Take Sam, then. It shall not be said that I lost the challenge only because Crab- 
shawe thinks he is dying.” 

“ Gracious heavens ! the challenge ! ” 

“ I had entirely forgotten it.” 

“ Still I recommend that we should lose it, rather than let Crabshawe die.” 

“You are right, George — your kind heart is a credit to you. I decide to lose the 
challenge rather than lose Crab — I mean, you know, lose him by death.” 

“ And do you agree with the squire and George, Spooner? ” 

“ Entirely, my dear Frank. A man with a human heart in his breast, blest with those 

feelings that alike do honor to his head ” 

“And his inclinations,” interrupted Frank — “ I give you all credit, gentlemen, for 
the most sublime feelings of friendship ; but still I think a little laudable curiosity to 
see the ladies ” 

“ Well, after such a storm, you know, Frank ” 

“ Arabella is always ill from a thunder-storm.” 

“ Is a good deal mixed with this tender care for Crabshawe,” continued Frank. 
“ You can take Sam as the fourth oar — not that I remain behind for fear of losing the 
challenge, for, mark me, the ladies will cry out against the supposition ; they will be 
the first to say that everything must give way before illness — that it was a case of ne- 
cessity— that you deserve to win the challenge, and not lose it, for sacrificing every- 
thing on the altar of friendship, for breaking the rules of the challenge, because King 
Crab, has the ‘ rumatics.’ ” 

“ My dear Frank, you are quite eloquent.” 

“ I have been reading Spooner’s share of the journal, and have caught a little of his 
style, I fancy.” 

“ Are you afraid to meet Miss Severn, that you will not come with us ? ” 

“Far be it from me to insinuate, by any act or deed of mine, that Miss Severn has 
anything of a formidable nature about her. I merely thought it was not quite respect- 
ful to our king for us all to leave him.” 

“ Oh ! nonsense — for only a couple of hours ! ” 

“We will see how he is in the morning.” 

“ For my part, I think nothing of his illness at all. He shams a good deal.” 

“ Why trouble Mrs. Joscelyn, then ? ” 

“Why?— because the poor fellow fancies her remedies. We shall have no peace 
until she doctors him. Sam, what is the matter now? ” 

^ “The capting, sir, he is very bad. He is a-wanting of some party to make his willi 
sir. 

“Pooh! pooh! tell him to go to sleep.” 


PUFF ! PUFF ! 


123 


“ That’s jest what I seys to him. ‘ Sir,’ seys I, ‘jest ye turn yer face to the wall, sir,* 
6e5’^s I, ‘ and ye’ll be asleep in no time, capting,’ seys I. But he damns me. Sir George, 
and that’s what I carn’t put up with. Sir George ! ” 

“ Certainly not, Sam — you did quite right to leave him.” 

“ Y es. Sir George, and I won’t go no more anigh him, let him ’oiler ever so.” 

“ Sam ought to see if our boots are blackened and clothes brushed.” 

“ By all means, Sam, and air one of those last new shirts of mine — those with cricket 
bats and balls on. We shall want everything ready by seven, we are going to Luff, 
and shall take you with us.” 

“ Thank ye. Sir George.” 

And Sam rushed off with such unusual alacrity, and with such an involuntary smirk 
over his entire face, that Spooner, always alive to these little signs, remarked, — 

“ One would suppose that Sam was going to see his sweetheart.” 

“ Of course; he is deeply enamored of your Susan, squire. He has confided to me 
that there is not such another valuable creature for a poor man’s wife than she is. The 
catalogue of her virtues appears to me to swell larger and larger every time he speaks 
of her.” 

“ He shall not have my good wishes. I cannot spare Susan ; she makes the best 
omelette soufflee I ever tasted.” 

“ Don’t be alarmed; I believe he proposes to her about once a month, and is as reg- 
ularly once a month refused. What is that noise ? ” 

“ I believe it is Crabshawe hollowing.” 

“ Don’t go, Frank — it interrupts the game so; we cannot do him any good. You 
can hear his lungs are sound enough, whatever may be the matter with the rest of his 
body.” 

“ For our own advantage, I had better quiet him — I will be back in a moment.” 

Frank’s soothing efforts had the effect he promised. They were not interrupted any 
more, and if their consciences smote them at all, the pang went off as they heard au- 
dible tokens of the invalid’s freedom from all ills, mental and personal. 

He was snoring in the most comfortable and approved manner. 

The four gentlemen, excited with the prospect of the next day’s adventure, did not 
feel inclined to go to bed, after they ceased to play whist. 

“They sat ruminating over the fire, each full of apparently pleasant thoughts — 
which thoughts, of course, were fumigated with the pipes of independence. 

“I wish you would go with us, Frank,” said the squire at last. “I fancy a certain 
young lady will look very glum when she sees you are not of the party.” 

“ I prefer she should look glum at my absence rather than my presence.” 

“ Now, there you mistake. I am, as Elizabeth says, a complete owl in love matters ; 
but I am not such an owl as to think that young lady insensible to your merits.” 

“ When we decided to come to Puff, I understood you were partly induced to do so 
for my unworthy sake — in short, to rescue me from being snared.” 

“ That was Crabshawe’s idea. Crabshawe has a monomania with regard to women.” 

“ I should say he had been jilted.” 

“ Or refused.” 

“ Does any one present know anything of Crab’s antecedents ? Who was his father? 
What was his mother? Whether there is any female specimen of the Crab family 
living? She cannot be pretty — in short, anything about him?” 

“ The foreman of the mine I superintend gave me a short history of his ancestors, 
which I will repeat if you wish it; but as it is not very creditable to our king, I fancy 
you will prefer to hear nothing about it.” 

Wednesday morning arrived. Notwithstanding the late hour at which they had re- 
tired to rest, and the somniferous habits to which they had accustomed themselves at 
Puff (through the exigency of having to dispose of the hours somehow), they were all 
stirring betimes. 

They each had an anxious confidential soliloquy with themselves as to what they 
should wear. 

At last they were all ready, and started for the boat, Frank accompanying them so 
far. It is to be remarked as a singular fact that not one of them thought of inquiring 
after the interesting invalid in whose behalf they were so bestirring themselves. Had 
they really forgotten him ? — or were they afraid to inquire, lest they should discover 
he was so well there was no necessity to go for Mrs. Joscel5m? 

So far from thinking of him at all, they had scarcely patience to try and persuade 
Frank once m6re to come with tliem. And he looked so eagerly, so longingly, after 
them, they could not help saying to each other, — 

“We ought to have made him come ! ” 

It was half-past seven o’clock as they bade him farewell. When they were within a 
short distance of Luff, Sir George proposed pausing a little, as it was not quite eight. 

The squire had two oars to himself, Spooner and Sam one each. Sir George steered. 
The squire was chuckling at being able to pull with advantage against the other two. 


124 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


Suddenly Sir George’s face, looking eagerly towards the island, flushed scarlet, his 
eyes seemed darting out of his head. Aghast at this sudden emotion, they all turned 
to look in the same direction. There, struggling with the branches of a tree, was the 
ladies’ flag, which, even as they looked, was hoisted up, free of all impediment, floating 
clear and high in the air, while across the water came the shrill, sharp sound of a 
woman’s scream. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


LUFF IT IS. 


The ladies had so far been relieved from their apprehensions regarding famine, and, 
in particular, the failure of that eminently feminine food, bread and butter, by the 
arrival of the boat on Tuesday evening. 

From having to pick up their crumbs as valuable morsels, they now rioted in every 
sort of luxury. Happy as larks, they rose early on Wednesday morning, and went down 
to the bathing-cove to see if the sea was sufficiently calmed down to permit of their 
having a swim. 

Nothing could be more exquisite than the morning. The air was laden with balmy 
odors ; the sea was smooth and calm, and gentle as a mother’s heart. There was not a 
cloud in the whole breadth of heaven. Everything gave promise of one of those lovely 
summer days wherein, it may be said, to exist is a luxury without any other good. 

Susan, still remor'seful and penitent, had risen earl}'-, that she might have her batch 
of new bread out of the oven in time for breakfast ; and as the ladies came in from their 
bath, the house was redolent with the perfume of newly-baked bread, than which none 
can be more appropriate for breakfast-time. 

They all ran hastily up stairs to arrange their toilets, and be ready in good time to 
do justice to Susan’s efibrts. 

Mrs. Joscelyn began to make the tea at a quarter to eight. Bessie was holding the 
tea-caddy, when she suddenly uttered a low cry, and let it drop. Her mother looked up 
in astonishment, and perceived Bessie, pale as death, staring at the window. 

Mrs. Joscelyn followed her gaze, and beheld a most hideous, repulsive-looking beg- 
gar-man peering in. Her presence of mind did not forsake her ; she said softly in 
French, to Bessie, — 

“ Go child, send Susan here, and tell the others to lock themselves in their rooms.*’ 

Bessie fled like a lapwing, and Susan, brandishing a red-hot poker, was with her 
mistress in a moment. 

They both went out of the window, shutting it after them, and were visibly alarmed 
to see altogether three men on the lawn. 

“What do you want here? ’’said Mrs. Joscelyn, as calmly as she could. But she 
acknowledges that, had she done as she liked, she would have sat clown and screamed 
for help. 

“ We be cum, axing yer parding, mum, for a bit of wital, or charity, or anythink as 
you may be as hobliging as guv us,” answered the hideous monster who had peered 
into the widow. 

“ I have nothing for you; and even if I had, I would give you nothing, as you have 
no right here.” 

“ Ho ! ho ! is that yer hanswer. Axing yer parding, mum, ’ave hanother hanswer we 
wull.” 


“ Ay, we wull ! ” said the others. 

“ We dusn’t want to go for to be oncivil, but we be three on us here, and there be 
three more in the boat, and we all on us wonts our breckwists, we does.” 

“ And we wull have it ! ” 

“ We knows, mum, as there be no gents ; but we ’ont be oncivil, if so be as ’ow you’ll 
just let us ’ave a luik through the ’ouse. We ’ave heerd as there be mortal foine thino-s 
’i the ’ouse — goold and silver, and watches, and sich like. Oh I don’t fear, but we ’ffil 
be mighty civil, axing yer parding, mum ! ” 

At the moment, with a low growl. Buna sprang upon one of the men, and Clara, erect 
and disdainful, stood by Mrs. Joscelyn and Susan. 

The man caught the dog dexterously by the throat, and his companions rushed to 
help him, drawing out their knives. • 

“If you hurt my dog, I will shoot you,” said Clara presenting a pistol. 

Struck by her commanding and resolute gesture, the men hesitated. 

“ Call yer dowg, miss, or I’Jl cut his throat.” 


125 


“luff it is.” 


“ Kuna, come here I ” 

Loath to do so, Runa obeyed, and stood snarling and bristling by her mistress’s side. 

“ I repeat it again,” said Mrs. Joscelyn, “ I am not to be intimidated into giving you 
anytliiiig. There may be six of you, or there may be but you three, of whom I have no 
fear. 1 would advise you to go off at once.” 

“IIo! ho! you shows light, docs yer? And the young lady — pray, miss, is yer 
pistol loaded?” 

“It is a revolver,” answered Clara, and without shrinking, in as c?dm and brave a 
manner as if she was a noted duellest, she pointed the pistol, and sent a bullet with 
uulliiiching hand wdiizzing between the heads of the three miscreants. 

The}' looked, for the instant, abjectly afraid. 

At that moment shrill screams smote their ears, — 

“ llo ! — ho ! them be t’other chaps with t’other ladies ! ” 

“ Don’t be alarmed, Mrs. Joscelyn, it is only Mrs. Spooner screaming with fright. I 
feel sure there are but these three, and with Runa we can easily manage them.” 

“ Not so heasy as you think, mum,” said one of the ruflaans, seizing her by the arm, 
and wrenching the pistol from her. 

Now, had Clara only to struggle with one of her own sex, or a clean gentleman, she 
wmuld probably have had a tussle for a pistol; but the near approach of the disgusting 
creature, the touch of his hand on her arm so revolted her, she left the pistol in his 
grasp, and ran behind Susan, who was making lunges at them all wuth her red-hot 
poker. 

This was a weapon that posed them; they could neither grasp it, nor secure Susan, 
whose agility would have done honor to an acrobat. 

Clara did not dare to bid Runa fly at them, which tiie noble dog was whining and 
trembling with excitement to do. She felt sure they would not scruple to cut her 
throat before her eyes. 

Thus, though Mrs. Joscelyn, Clara, and Susan acted with the greatest bravery in the 
world, they felt how useless was the display — how powerless they were ; even with a 
dog, a revolver, and a red-hot poker, which latter, of course, was losing its virtue 
every minute. 

Clara felt if one of them offered to touch her agatn, she must take to screaming 
quite as loudly as Mrs. Spooner; while Mrs. Joscelyn, still resolved not to give way iu 
appearance, was yet ready to faint in her heart. 

At this moment Kate and Bessie joined them, each armed with another hot poker, 
the latter passing hers to Susan, and running off with the cold one. 

“ Aunt,”' whispered Kate, “ we have hoisted the flag.” 

“ My child ! ” said the other, with anguish, “ it will be too late ! ” 

“Not for the coast-guard. If they are looking out, they may be here in a quarter of 
an hour.” 

“ Too late ! — too late ! ” 

“ Cum, inarm, be reasonable. Go you to hany room yer fancy, and lock yersels hup, 
and we wunnot be oncivil. We’ll joost tak a bit of breekwist, and each on us tak a 
little keepsake or so, of such butiful ladies ; axing yer parding, inarm — this here 
watch, now, ’ood be the werry thing for me. I’d a-wear it for yer sake, I ’ood indeed, 
inarm.” 

“ You scoundrel! ” thundered a voice behind him, and though the wretch turned 
livid with fear at the sound of a well-known voice, he had no time to speak. He was 
hoisted up in the air by a strength that was at all times powerful, but, iu the present 
instance, backed by passion and indignation, was wholly irresistible. 

“ You beast ! you vagabond ! did I twice give you five shillings, only that you should 
dare to come and alarm my wife ! Take that, and that, and that ! Blessed be the fate 
that counselled the putting on my nailed boots ! ” 

Up to this moment our glorious squire, in his shirt-sleeves, perspiring at every pore, 
without a hat, and no necktie, was the sole army that appeared for the rescue, but he 
was quite suffleient. Even if his presence and his voice had not appalled the three 
miscreants enough, he took breath for a moment, and knocked both the others down, 
while he still tightly grasped our ancient friend, our “ excellent convict! ” 

Runa, with a bound of delight, rushed upon the prostrate bodies, and kept guard. 

“ Don’t be alarmed, Lizzy, my dear! ” gasped the squire, surveying the enemy with 
a glow of triumph. “ I shall not let go of this villain, this scoundrel, this cur, until 
1 say, Scruttles, look at me. If ever you get out of prison again, I’ll hang my- 
self! ” 

, The “ excellent convict ” roared for mercy, as he felt what it was to have an enemy 
shod with nailed boots. 

And now came, panting and puffing, the other gentlemen. 

“ Where — where is my Arabella? ” exclaimed her affectionate husband. 

“ Up in her room. I will show you,” said Kate. 


126 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


And tins loving spouse dashed off to assure his wife of love and safety, under hia 
manly protection. 

Meantime, the squire, assisted stoutly by Susan, and delicately by Sir George, was 
handcuffing his prisoners with the best manacles he could procure. Between doing it 
effectually, and kicking them at intervals, he had not finished before Mr. Spooner 
rushed back to Mr. Joscelyn, exclaiming, — 

“ Oh ! come — come and calm my Arabella! she thinks I am a robber, and she will 
not let me into her room I ” 

“ Stay here, while I go and reassure her; for, as long as she hears a man’s voice, 
which voice, as she very well knows, ought not to be heard here, she will not open the 
door.” 

“ Darling creature 1 ” murmured the husband. 

Mr. Joscelyn had some difficulty in gaining admittance herself. 

a ig I — Elizabeth Joscelyn 1 ” she called through the key-hole. 

“ The voice is the voice of Mrs. Elizabeth Joscelyn ; but I know it is a blind. You 
are bound and fettered, and with a robber on each side, their daggers uplifted to stab 
you if you do not obey them, they order j^ou to deliver up one victim more.” 

This is what Mrs. Spooner answered through the door. 

“ But the robbers are secured; your husband is here! Open, Arabella; you do not 
think that even to save my life I would risk yours ? ” 

“ Ah ! 5 "ou are a mother — they are perhaps torturing your Bessie ; 'and what is my 
life in your eyes reckoned against hers ? ” 

“ Then will you look out of the window? ” 

“ They will shoot me.” 

After some further trouble and persuasion at last she peeped out, and saw her be- 
loved Augustus gesticulating with arms, and legs, and whole body, towards her win- 
dow. Whereupon she shrieked wildly, and, it is supposed, thought of fainting; but 
some intuition murmuring to her that she had better unlock the door first, she did so, 
and then had the inexpressible happiness of swooning away in the arms of her 
Augustus ! 

When Mrs. Joscelyn returned down stairs she was amazed to find the sacred seclu- 
sion of Luff swarming with bearded men. 

There were the three robbers, still prostrate ; there was her squire, wiping his still 
teeming brows, and still making a sort of irresistible use of his Patch boots. There 
was Sir George looking on ; but in addition, were the lieutenant of the coast guard, 
and half a dozen of his men. 

He raised his hat to Mrs. Joscelyn, sa 3 dng, with a smile, — 

I beg your pardon, madam, for intruding upon ground so sacred, but before he left 
the country, I received an order from Colonel Erne to keep a lookout on the island of 
Luff, and if I saw any strange boat approaching it, to put off and examine her. Early 
this morning, as soon as it was light, I noticed a boat, badly manned, strugglingacross 
the bay, and apparently making for Luff. It appeared to me that inexperienced fellows 
must be in her, as the drift of the current swept them down. They landed at Ribble, 
and remained there, either resting or sleeping, in a little cove just opposite Luff. I 
was at my breakfast, when the lookout-man reported the boat again afloat, and that it 
was making for Lufi’. I immediately manned my boat, and arrived, not in such good 
time as I could wish, but, at all events, I can relieve you of the prisoners.” 

“ Only on one condition, that you take them straight to jail.” 

It is needless to say, the squire spoke. 

“ Of course, Mr. Joscelyn. I have a policeman with me, and three pairs of hand- 
cuffs I fancied would be necessary. The superintendent lives close to my house, and I 
can safely promise they shall be in jail to-night.” 

“ I shall come and see you hanged, Scruttles.” 

“ Axing yer honor’s parding, might I be so bold as to arsk for a bite of bread?” 

The squire answered this petition in the usual manner, which called forth a howl of 
agony. But Kate and Bessie, it is believed, ran to Susan, and stole from her one of 
the newly-made loaves of bread, and took it to them. 

The lieutenant of the coast guard refused Mrs. Joscelyn’s hospitality, saying he was 
impatient to return. He took his leave, and, carrying off the prisoners, in a short time 
Luff was restored to peace and quiet. 

“ Lizzy,” said the squire, returning from seeing the coast-guard boat off, into which 
Scruttles was assisted by his last and most energetic kick, “ how do you do, my dear? ” 
and he bestowed upon her, unabashed by surrounding eyes, a satisfactory and loud- 
sounding salute. 

Mrs. Joscelyn blushed like a young girl, and altogether looked so pretty, the squire 
seemed half-inclined to kiss her again. 

• “ I am sure you must be hungry,” said his wife, prudently turning his thoughts into 
another channel. 


“luff it is.” 127 

“ Hungry ! good heavens ! I now begin to feel the sensation of having ten wolves in 
my interior ! ” 

“ Ah ! papa,” said Bessie, springing on to his knee, “ that is just what Susan said. 
‘Now that we hav’ conkeered them pirates, if master haven’t had his breakwist, he 
will be a-devouring of us all? So it is all ready, papa, dear.” 

“ Bring it in, Bessie, my pet ! ” 

“ But where is your coat and hat, and all those sorts of things, papa? ” 

“ In the boat, I believe, my darling ! ” 

“ I will run for them, while you wash your hands and face in our room.” 

“ Very good. But I say, Lizzy, shall we incommode you by breakfasting here ? ” 

^ “ Not at all, John, we shall be delighted. We were just going to prayers,” she con- 
tinued half in a whisper. 

“ By all means, Lizzy — nothing would be more to my mind.” 

So prayers ^vere read, and the squire’s amen echoed through the' room. Imme- 
diately afterwards the three girls followed Susan, and presently returned, each laden 
with dishes. Susan, while the above matters were being detailed, had no sooner heard 
her master’s voice, than she knew her mistress required no further help, and thought 
she was best fulfilling her wishes by preparing a super-excellent and abundant break- 
fast. 

Mr. and Mrs. Spooner simultaneously appeared with it — she half tears, half smiles, 
and he like a respectable Dorking cock, 'who has just thrashed a rival. 

Never w'as such a breakfast. In addition to that best sauce, hunger, everything was 
so excellent, so fresh, so appetizing ! And it was such a pleasure to see the table not 
only graced by many elegancies, that they now felt added so much to the pleasure of 
eating, but it was so delightful to see the pretty female faces, to be waited on so deftly 
and gracefully, to bandy words with such delicious, darling creatures ! 

As for Sir George, it'might be supposed he had assumed Frank’s character for the 
nonce. He helped the girls to help the squire; he ran in and out of the kitchen, as if 
he was Susan’s only son ; he was quite benign to Mrs. Spooner, quite afiectionate to 
Mrs. Joscelyn, and as merry as a boy with Bessie. The squire had just cracked the 
shell of his fourth egg, when that little damsel inquired, — 

“Pray, papa, did you fiy over here? for Clara and Kate only hoisted the flag ten 
minutes before you came.” 

“ Hoisted the flag!” repeated Mr. Spooner, a little, just a little, of triumph in his 
tone. 

“ Hoisted the flag! ” echoed Sir George, and, smiling, he whispered, “you see. Miss 
Daintree, you could not do without us.” 

“ Hoisted the flag ! ” exclaimed the squire; and, compelled to speak the truth, ho 
added, “ jmu need not have hoisted the flag, we were on our — by the by, Spooner, 
George, we have forgotten all about poor Crab ! ” 

Down went all their knives and forks — the smiling and the triumph changed to mis- 
giving and confusion. Mrs. Joscel}^ was not slow to perceive there was a loophole 
somewhere, through which the ladies, if they could manage it, might slip. 

Still trembling in her heart at their narrow escape from robbery and*insolence, all 
the woman rose in her at the hope that, though the ladies had hoisted their flag, the 
gentlemen must have started to ask their assistance, at least an hour before it floated 
in the air. With a happy countenance, she gayly asked, — 

“ Anything the matter with Captain Crabshawe?” 

Now here occurs one of those strange anomolies in the human heart, for which there 
is no accounting. 

The squire, though he had utterly forgotten all about the unfortunate King Crab 
until this minute, was a little indignant at his wife’s easy air, and careless question; 
under the influence of which feeling he uttered the nearest approach to a falsehood 
that his lips ever achieved. 

“ Poor fellow ! he is dying,” immediately qualifying the statement by adding, — “ at 
least, he thinks so.” 

“ He is very, very ill, poor fellow — almost delirious ; he could not bear the sight of 
me, Arabella, when the fever was high.” 

“ Gracious ! Augustus — and you looking so well I That -style of doing your hair is 
so becoming ! ” 

“ Darling! ” whispered the male A. S. 

“ We are afraid his fever is infectious. Frank stayed behind to nurse him,” said Sir 
George. 

“ All his cry is for you, Lizzy ; he says, ‘ Go for her ! — go for Mrs. Joscelyn I — let 
me see her kind face before I die ! ’ ” 

“ Surely he must be quite delirious to go on in that fashion.” 

“ On the contrary, Lizzy, I thought him extremely sensible in his wish; and as it 
was too late last night to come for you, I promised him to fetch you back after break- 
fast.” 


128 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


T'etcli me back, my dear John? — is a woman allowed on Puff? Shall you not lose 
the challenge ? ” 

“ Well, Lizzy, if you insist upon it we must; we agreed last night that anything was 
better than that poor Crab should die for want of your assistance.” 

“That was very kind of you, and I am certain I speak the sentiments of all the ladies 
when I say, that you have not lost the challenge by such an act.” 

“ That is just what Frank said. He said, the ladies will be the first to say the chal- 
lenge is yours still.” 

“ We will all thank Mr. Summers when we see him for his kind judgment of us. 
Meantime, do you consider that we have lost our chance by hoisting the flag ? ” 

“ No, certainly not ; but don’t remind me of that beast Scruttles, or I shall not be 
able to eat any more breakfast. It was a perfect’ providence my putting on these 
boots ! ” 

“ I agree with you, squire ; the ladies, under the extraordinary circumstances of the 
case, ^vere quite right to hoist the flag.” 

« Go— o— od heavens ! my dearest Arabella, I never should have forgiven you, had 
you not summoned me as you did.” 

“ Darling ! ” she whispered. 

“ This being amicably settled, do let me hear about Captain Crabshawe. Ought we 
not to go to him immediately? ” 

“ Well, I believe we ought. I have made a very good breakfast, thank God, and am 
ready to set out if you are, Lizzy ? ” 

“Oh! Augustus, don’t — don’t leave me; they may come back, those horrid 
wretches ! ” 

“ I won’t, my dearest love ; I will remain, — that is, if I may. I do think, squire, it 
would be only prudent if one of us remained behind to take care of the ladies. Mrs. 
Joscelyn musl return here, you know, this evening, and then we can go home.” 

“ I am quite of Spooner’s opinion, squire ; and if you have Sara, you and he will 
easily take Mrs. Joscelyn to Puff, and bring her back.” 

“ I can pull Sam round in a circle.” 

“ Ilif you please. Sir George, Suesin has a deal of washin’-hup, with hall this huuex- 
pected company — I was a- thinking 1 ought to ’elp her.” 

Sam was in the act of coming in with more toast when the squire made his remark, 

“ Lizzy, ray dear, put on your things, and I will row you over by myself.” 

“ May not I come ? ” whimpered Bessie. 

“No, no; Crab’s fever may be catching. I am coming back, my darling, with your * 
mother.” 

“ Suppose, John, you dine with us when you return?” 

“ I should like it very much, Lizzy ; but can you ” 

Here the squire stopped short. The remembrance of the difliculties as to giving a 
dinner at Puff, before they had a cook and a kitchen-maid, made him hesitate about 
troubling the Lufis, who had only Susan. 

“ Bring back our cook, and our dinner with you,” said Sir George. 

“Well, it all depends on poor Crab; we must not forget, that, if he dies, we ought 
not to be thinking of our dinners.” 

“ I hope he is not so bad as that,” murmured the little rose-bud, whose voice, usually 
like the voice of a little joyful lark, was, to Sir George’s astonishment, as low as the 
cooing of a dove. 

“I hope not either, Katie; so good-by to you all for the present. There is some- 
thing so extraordinary about that beast Scruttles, that, though I manacled him with my 
own hands, and know that he is in the custody not only of the coast guard, but the po- 
lice, who have promised to see him safe into prison, I should not be surprised to find 
him here again when I bring my wife back, therefore I am glad you remain. If he 
comes, kick him for me, whatever you do.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Joscelyn set off together to return to Puff, quite like Darby and Joan. 
We have no doubt they enjoyed themselves very much, for the squire, spite of poor 
Crabshawe’s danger, took the rowing very leisurely. 

Frank met them at the landing-place, and, in detailing all that had happened, the 
squire forgot the invalid again. 

Frank, too, was so shocked he turned pale and trembled, so that he also remembered 
nothing about his patient. Mrs. Joscelyn, therefore, made her way alone to the palace 
of the Puffs, and, guided by strange groans and cries, reached the room where lay the 
forlorn and dying Crabshawe. She knocked at the door. 

“ Come in,” said a feeble voice. 

“ Oh ! dear Mrs. Joscelyn, have you come at last? — only to hear my last words and 
receive my last sigh.” 

“Upon my word, I do not think I shall do either. Captain Crabshawe. Let me feel 
your pulse. It is certainly not the pulse of a dying man. You have caught a bad cold, 
and you are a little bilious. If you had taken a good dose of physic, and afterwards 


LUFF IT IS, 


129 


(( 


M 


one or two long walks, you would have recovered both ills in a short time. Instead of 
which, I should say, you have been nursing yourself into a fever with doses of hot 
brandy and water, and coddling over the lire, until every breath of air seemed to give 
you a pang.” 

“ Oh 1 Mrs. Joscelyn, what an angel you are ! You have just hit it ! — how clever of 
you ! I will do everything you command me.” 

“Then I shall order you to take a certain dose that I will prepare for you ; and I 
should advise your having a warm bath, and putting on clean clothes, well aired. You 
■will find yourself much refreshed by so doing.” 

“ Anything — anything, dear, kind Mrs. Joscelyn ! ” 

When that lady left the invalid to go and give her orders she was obliged to sit upon 
the stairs for a few moments and laugh. 

Such a picture as Captain Crabshawe, ill in bed, was never seen before by mortal 
eyes. 

In the first place, his usually plain physiognomy was rendered simply hideous by a 
beard of three days’ growth, and a face that had certainly not been washed for the same 
time. 

lie had huddled over him, for warmth sake, all his wearing ciothes, as well as his 
bedclothes. He wore a red nightcap, with a tassel, but over it he had tied a colored 
cotton handkerchief, which gave him the appearance of being a very wicked, old grimy- 
bearded woman. 

Alack ! if he was ever to hear of that simile. 

However, he presented a very different appearance in an hour’s time. Cleanly-shaved, 
renovated and freshened by his bath, clothed in a thick, handsome, shooting-suit of the 
squire’s — for his own clothes, Mrs. Joscelyn said, Avere damp and wholly useless from 
constant -wear and tear — he really almost looked like a gentleman. 

And Avhen Mrs. Joscelyn brought him a basin of hot soup, and allowed him a couple 
of glasses of sherry, he seemed as renoA^ated in spirits as body. 

The good squire, pleased to see the effect of his Avife’s nursing, did not begrudge 
King Crab the suit of clothes. 

“ He may have them, Lizzj’-,” he said, when she asked him for them, “ and he may 
keep them. They are nearly new, so I have not got Avell- acquainted with them as yet, 
and I don’t mind parting Avith them.” 

The next thing that Mrs. Joscelyn did was to tidy the house. 

Acting under her orders, the squire and Frank moved furniture, routed out corners, 
arranged books, and placed everything in so comfortable and pleasant a form, they were 
quite delighted Avith their hitherto desolate saloon. 

“This place is dreadfully uiiAvholesome,” obserA^ed she; “ you cannot have had it 
cleaned since you have been here, or the AvindoAvs opened? ” 

“ We had no one to clean it Lizzy, and Crab could not bear the least bit of air.” 

“ Take him into the sunshine now; his illness is nothing, but that he has become a 
little mouldy.” 

“Ha! ha!” laughed the squire, “mouldy! that is a new disease; but no doubt ’tis 
true as regards Crab.” 

“ You may add some ill-temper to the mouldiness. I should not wonder if he fretted 
inwardly at seeing he had made no proselytes, that you were all anxious for the month 
to be over. 

“ IIoAv do you make that out, Elizabeth?” a slight severity in the squire’s tones. 

“ Because I am, John.” 

“ AV^ell, Lizzy, that is frankly said. Between you and me, we shall enjoy talking over 
this month much more than the reality of it noAV.” 

“True,” said Frank; “the remembrance of it Avill tend to make some of us more 
contented. Have I polished this enough, Mrs. Joscelyn? ” 

“ Yes ; it looks wonderfully improved — don’t you think so ? ” 

“ How odd it is that Avomen should know hoAV to place furniture so as not only to be 
more comfortable, but to look prettier ! ” 

“ I do not think it at all odd — the oddness would be the other way.” 

“ I must sajq Frank, you are loyal to the backbone ; and so am I, whenever I give 
myself time to think about it.” 

“ I hope, gentlemen, you Avill suffer me to offer this taper to light your cigars. I am 
going to mend some of your things, John, and Avillsit and chat to Captain Crabshawe 
Avhile I do it.” 

Mrs. Joscelyn ran up stairs for her work, and the two gentlemen, after lighting their 
cigars, the first they had had that day, put on their hats to take a stroll Avhile they did so. 

“ Frank, she is the best Avife in Christendom. I presume upon her sweet temper 
very often.” 

“Then don’t do so any more, squire ; she feels it, though she may say nothing about it.*^ 

“ I dare say she does'— she Avas such a merry girl! ” 

“ I Avould never rest until she Avas a merry girl again.” 

17 


JfCO 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


••riiimpli! Frank. I don’t see how that may be. We have, I suppose, onr proper 
feelings for our proper age. I think to see Elizabeth acting like a girl would not be 
quite to ray mind. I am no deep thinker, but I am great at facts.” 

Thus did this famous challenge lead to the squire becoming a philosopher, and reason- 
ing on matters with a great deal more sense, though not so many hard words as Spooner. 

When the gentlemen retnrned from their stroll it was two o’clock. Peeping into the 
saloon, they were struck with its comfortable and cheerful air. 

There was a little lively fire, though it was June, and by it lay the invalid, in a pleas- 
ant doze. Not far from him sat his nurse, the pretty feminine head crowned with a gloiy 
of hair, bending over her work, and looking quite domestic. On the table was spread 
their luncheon, which was arranged with as much elegance as if they were at home. 

The captain awoke on hearing their voices, and expressed himself as decidedly bet- 
ter; so much so, that he did not disdain a slice of cold chicken, which was followed by 
some jelly ; after Avhicli he achieved the feat of walking up and down the saloon several 
times, apparently without fatigue. 

Luncheon over, Mrs. Joscelyn said, — 

“ I now think I ought to return to my kingdom. I will leave a few directions for 
Mr. Summers, which will, I hope, complete the cure now begun.” 

Extraordinary to relate, the captain put on a face like a petted child. 

“ Oh ! don’t — don’t leave me, Mrs. Joscelyn ! I shall be as bad as ever if you go ! ” 
“ But absolutely I must return. I may wait another hour, especially as my husband 
is going to dine with us at Luff; but not longer.” 

And now another extraordinary circumstance takes place, which makes the squire 
open his eyes in amazement, and Prank exclaim, — 

“ A miracle ! — a miracle ! ” 

Said Captain Crabshawe, — 

“ Let me go and dine at Luff too ! ” 

“ We shall be very glad of your company ; and I feel sure, if you wrap me up warm- 
ly, you will take no harm. Fresh air and plenty of water are God’s own physics ; and 
therefore I prescribe them on every occasion ; but you must not be late in coming 
home.” 

Cushions were put in the boat, and a comfortable place arranged for him. 

Mrs. Joscelyn ordered Frank to come too. If one might judge by the expression of 
his face, it was an order he delighted to obey. 

“We ought to take the cook and his kickshaws, and the boy, Frank, for we are so 
many.” 

“ But how will the boat bring us all back? ” 

“ It can go twice, and even if not, there is the boat of that beast Scruttles, which I 
have taken possession of, as I feel certain he stole it I ” 

Mrs. Joscelyn was right in fancying the little voyage and the fresh air would do the 
captain good. He enjoyed it vastly. 

Never was there seen a prettier sight than the groups that awaited their arrival at Luff. 
And when they discovered the invalid was with them, the hearty greetings and warm 
congratulations poured upon him, made a sort of an odd lump come in his throat. For 
the iirst time in his life, he discovered whereabouts that neglected, ill-used thing, his 
heart, had hidden itself in his frame. He felt it thrill and beat with pleasure. 

He was almost tearfully grateful, as Kate ran to prepare a sofa for him ; Clara carried 
his wraps ; Mrs. Spooner declared — “ she was so surprised and delighted to see him ; ” 
while little Bessie allowed him to put a hand on her shoulder, as he stepped feebly out 
of the boat. 

“ Oh ! Miss Daintree ! ” cried he, as he sunk upon the cushions prepared for him by 

her; “ how kind j'ou are to such a — to such a ” 

“ Hush ! sir; we allow no one to call names in our island.” 

Now, it must be told of the ladies, that, shortly before dinner, they hastened up stairs 
to hold a^consultation upon their toilets, at Mrs. Spooner’s express desire. 

“But,” as Clara said, “why hold a consultation w^hen we have nothing smarter than 
white muslin? ” ® 


“ Good gracious ! my dears, did you not provide yourselves with a dinner-dress in 
case of accidents ? ” 

“ No, Mrs. Spooner.” 

“ And I did not bring one either,” said Mrs. Joscelyn. 

“ What a pity ! for if I wear mine, I shall be so much too smart,” and she pulled out 
to view a brocaded silk, elaborately trimmed with lace and ribbon. 

“ It is such an auspicious occasion, you know,” she added, as she pulled out the bows, 
shook It out, and displayed all its beauties. ’ 

x tvcar it then, and we will make ourselves as smart as we can.” 

or f ^ ’’’ Kate, half hesitating, and then producing a basket full 

of the most lovely fresh flowers ever seen. *'0 xui. 


“luff it is/* 131 

“ Oil ! how beautiful ! But what a pity they are not artificial ; you could then wear 
them in your hair.” 

“ We can wear them as they are ! ” 

“ Gossip, where did you get them? ” whispered Clara. 

“ Where did you get your revolver? ” answered her gossip, saucily. 

“ Goodness me ! what it is to go to the Crimea! ” 

“ Wh3% my dear Clara, why? ” asked Mrs. Spooner, eagerly. 

“Because one becomes such a judge of fiowers.” 

Too intent upon her toilet, Mrs. Spooner did not see the drift of Clara’s remark. 
But Kate and Clara had a scrimmage — amicable, of course. 

When Mrs. Spooner made her appearance in her brocaded dress, nothing could ex- 
ceed the admiration of her beloved Augustus. He was one of those men who have 
an amiable weakness for wishing to see his wife the finest of the fine; and to be able 
CO say to himself- “that is a ten-guinea dress, as all the world must see; no wishy- 
washy muslin or mohair! ” 

Mrs. Joscelyn was already seated in her chair, dressed in muslin — white ; and oppo- 
site her sat the squire, who was hardly able to refrain from telling her how pretty he 
thought her. 

To tone down the youthfulness of her muslin dress, she had taken down her coro- 
net of hair, and wore a little lace cap, which was run with ribbons of the loveliest blue 
color, and to match the color she had a little dainty apron of blue silk, which gave a 
finish to her demi-toilet that was quite ravishing. To say nothing of two exquisite 
roses, acting as ornaments, which gave out a delicious fragrance w^henever she moved. 

In a few minutes the whole room seemed beautified and adorned by the appearance 
of Miss Severn and Miss Daintree, also in white muslin, but ornamented wdtli natural 
flowers, placed with so much art and skill, Mrs. Spooner was obliged to wish secretly 
she had left her brocaded silk at home. 

There was quite a flutter of admiration in the room. 

“ Lizzy, you seem to have very pretty flowers here,” remarks the innocent squire. 

“ Oh ! very pretty,” answers that subtile lady. 

The gentlemen had to make apologies for their appearance, being so very inferior to 
the ladies, which was of course excused. Captain Crabshawe alone looked more gen- 
tlemanly than he had ever done before, which circumstance was either owing to that air 
the squire’s clothes possessed, or from the efiects of Mrs. Joscelyn’s specifics of fresh 
air and water. 

Under the combined influence of Susan, Sam, the cook, the cook’s kitchen-maid, it is 
needless to say, they dined royally. 

After dinner the ladies were about to withdraw, but the gentlemen unanimously en- 
treated them to remain. 

“You will wish to smoke,” replied Mrs. Joscelyn, smiling. 

“ Ko, no ! — oh ! no,” exclaimed several voices. 

“ We have no cigars or tobacco left,” said Frank, calmly. 

The squire looked at Frank with the greatest amazement. That this amiable young 
man should deliberately take the trouble of telling, for nothing, such an untruth, was 
the most inconceivable thing in the world. He was so puzzled — not to say abashed — 
that he could only stare at him without uttering a word. 

“ Some more wine, squire? ” said Frank, as gay as a linnet. 

“ More wine ! ” murmured the squire, looking at him severely. 

“ Yes, we ought to do justice to the dinner — it shows, you see, how proper it is that 
all things should be amalgamated. The Pufi* dinner, added to that prepared at Luflf, 
have together left us nothing to desire.” 

Frank was not the only Puflite that astonished the squire. Though Captain Crab- 
shawe did not sit at the dinner-table, but reclined elegantly on his sofa, softly cushion- 
ed by Miss Daintree, he yet ate of everything that Mrs. Joscelyn allowed him, with 
exceeding “ relish,” to use his own phrase. He also imbibed two bumpers of cham- 
pagne, provided by the squire, with so much good effect, as to prove no tonic could 
suit him better. , . 

In fact, until the hour of nine approached, he was almost himself— no, not himself, 
but a sort of newly polished up Crabshawe — a lively, good-tempered, mildly-jovial 
Crabshawe. A Crabshawe that might be styled quite a new species — amiable, sweet- 
ly grateful, and absolutely given to small compliments. Though, by the by, they were 
not small ; when a man takes a sudden turn, such as King Crab had experienced bodily 
and mentally, he goes, as the proverb says, “ the whole hog ” at once. 

As Miss Daintree confided to her gossip, under cover of night and the bedclothes, — 

“ I thought the old thing would propose before the whole company ! ” 

But to explain wherefore he astonished the squire. Just about nine o’clock he ap- 
peared to experience a renewal of the pains in his bones. But his nurse and doctor 
was not to be deceived or cajoled. 


132 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“Wrap up Captain Crabshawe,” quoth she, “and take him to the boat; he ia 
now in want of a little more fresh air.” 

“ Crab, 5"ou are a humbug,” remarked the squire, as the captain pleaded, with a cer- 
tain abject likeness to Scruttles, to remain where he was. 

“ I will be no trouble, kind Mrs. Joscelyn. I will lie here all night, and not be in 
anybody’s way ! ” 

“ I assure you that is impossible.” 

“But all my pains have returned. I am worse than ever — surely you would not 
turn a dying man out at this time of night ? ” 

Thus it appeared as if the miracle Mrs. Joscelyn had performed was a miracle no 
longer. 

He moaned, he groaned, the corners of his mouth went down, the ends of his eyes 
went up ! He contrived to look bilious, and all the blood he could collect he sent up 
into the nob of his nose. 

The “ Lords ” and “ Ladies ” were alike puzzled and perplexed. All eyes were turned 
on Mrs. Joscelyn. She rose equal to the occasion. 

“ Gentlemen,” she said, “ order your servants to wrap up Captain Crabshawe, and 
take him to the boat. As Queen of Luff, so long as I reign, I permit no one to remain 
here after sunset, but my own subjects.” 

“But, Mrs. Joscelyn, suppose Luff is again invaded by robbers? ” said Sir George. 
“Yes, Elizabeth; we may not be so handy another time.” 

“ For heaven’s sake, don’t be persuaded to risk such another adventure ! In fact, I 
cannot — I will not leave my Arabella I ” 

(“ Darling ! ”) 

“ Let us give up the challenge,” said Sir George. 

“ Especially as we have lost it,” remarked Frank. 

“ How ! — how ! ” exclaimed all the Puffs in angry excitement. 

“ Because you are here.” 

“ But we have agreed not to consider the doings of this day as anything. The ladies 
are not to forfeit their chance from raising their flag, because it was a most extraordi- 
nary and untoward thing that made them do it. And we are not to lose our chance, for 
it was only common humanity to come and ask my wife to save Crab’s life.” 

“ Why not go to Kampton for a doctor, instead of troubling Mrs. Joscelyn? ” 

“ My dear Frank, what is the matter with you? Wliat has soured you? Why make 
all this bother ? ” 

“ Because I wish distinctly to understand, if we have lived in this most odious and 
uncomfortable way for more than three weeks, for the sake of the challenge, why are 
we to give it up just for a whim of Crab’s? ” 

“ My dear fellow, I am dying ! ” 

“ It is not so much on Crab’s account, Frank, as the ladies’. We give it up on their 
account.” 

“ I’ll be sworn they do not wish to give it up.” 

“ We don’t ! ” said three female voices distinctly. 

And Mrs. Joscelyn continued, — 

“ My dear John, it was, as you say, an extraordinary and unforeseen circumstance 
our being visited by these robbers. But I do not in the least fear it will occur again. 
Your convict came here as much to revenge himself as to rob us. But if that is not 
sufficient to ease your mind, remember the coast-guard lookout ; they were here, ready 
to aid us, within a very few minutes of your own arrival.” 

“ That is true ; and, Lizzy, you really don’t fear being again left alone? You would 
rather we fulfilled the time ? ” 

“ I would — and I hope my companions think the same.” 

A sob from Mrs. Spooner. 

“You know, Arabella, how much we shall be laughed at by our Rampton friends if 
wc all return home within a few days of the end of the trial, apparently for nothing.” 

“ True,” said Arabella, wiping her eyes. 

“Yes, dearest Belle, I agree with you, they will always have the laugh against us. 
We must part, love ! ” 

“ Oh ! Augustus ! ” 

“ Well, Lizzy, I think you have decided rightly. Though if you were at all nervous, 
or had any fears, a fig for the challenge, and all the Rampton people I ” 

“ I have no fears, though I do not care for the Rampton people.” 

“ But I promised them a dance, or a something of that sort, Lizzy, when we came 
home.” 

“ When did you see them? ” 

The good squire was nonplussed. 

“ Oh \ ” said that incorrigible Frank, “ he wrote to them.” 

This was too much for the squire. 

“ I did not (do anything of the sort ; I— I ” 


LUFF IT IS, 


135 


•t 


»> 


Here he was hustled, and his voice drowned by a chorus of all sorts cf noises, in the 
midst of which, by a sign from Mrs. Joscelyn, the captain was forcibly inclosed in a 
great-coa,t, a large red worsted comforter tied over his head, a plaid encased his nmos, 
and he was borne off by Sam and Frank, as if he had been a mummy, to the bo.at. 

The ladies walked with the gentlemen to see them embark. 

The captain made one more feeble remonstrance. 

“ Mrs. Joscelyn, let me be one of your subjects —•your slave ! ” 

“ Pal’d' 'u me,” she answered, “you are incapacitated for the privilege, by your sex. 
Good-niglii gentlemen, and many thanks for a very pleasant evening.” 

So the gentlemen said farewell. 

In ■ le gloaming of that summer night there were sundry leave-takings that would 
not i..ive taken place, it is presumed, in the broad daylight. 

In fact. Sir George stepped into the boat with a sort of resigned feeling. 

“ I have gone and done it now ! I shall hate myself if I don’t follow up that squeeze 
of the hand with a proper proposal.” 

It did not appear that Mr. Summers and Miss Severn had so much interest in each 
other, as to make their parting in any way remarkable. 

But as for the two A. S.’s, they kissed and parted, and fell into each others’ arms a 
dozen times before the actual “ tearing away ” took place. 

The squire so far felt the influence of the hour and the occasion, that he tucked his 
Lizzy’s arm under his all the way to the boat, and, flnding a convenient shadow under 
a slanting tree, thought to steal a kiss without anybody perceiving — this same Lizzy 
being averse to public demonstrations. He was correct in thinking no one saw, 
but, at the same time, everybody heard, which amounts to the same thing in the end. 

“ Lizzy,” said he, after perpetrating the deed, “ I have left you three bottles of 
champagne ! ” 

At last they were off, Frank in the Scruttles boat (at which the squire had gazed 
with a gloomy look of disgust, that it was of no use kicking it), and the three 
servants. 

The invalid was rowed home by three of his subjects. 

But this eventful day is not entirely over. 

When Frank arrived at Puff, he found Sir George waiting his landing. 

“ Frank, do come and have a quiet cigar and chat with me.” 

“ Let us put King Crab to bed first, and then I will chat with you all night.” 

King Crab was very pretty behaved, and went to bed like a good child, taking sol- 
emnly, as it was prescribed by Mrs. Joscelyn, a glass of weak brandy and water. 

But before he went, the squire happened to say, — 

Frank, what induced you to tell — to say — to perpetrate that horrid fib to my wife 
al5out our having no cigars or tobacco ? ” 

“ You came to Puff in consequence of being forbidden to smoke at home. That the 
ladies should have an inkling that you refrained from smoking all the way to Luff, that 
you never thought of having even one whiff on their island, that, in fact, you were 
ready to give up smoking altogether if they wished it (which you are), was to my mind 
such an ‘ eating of humble pie,’ such an admission of your miserable mouth, such a tri- 
umph to them, that really I felt I could do no less than sacrifice my principles to defend 
your dignities — your rights as men.” 

“ It was very kind of you, I am sure, my dear Frank,” said Spooner. 

“I don’t think it kind at all; he made me very uncomfortable ; we certainly came 
nere in a pet, but I do not think it was altogether about the smoking.” 

“ It was not, squire,” answered King Crab; “it was to save Frank from the arts 
of Miss Severn. And do you know, Frank, I think she is a nice gurl ? She is much 
improved.” 

“ Go — o — od heavens ! Crabshawe ! ” 

“Don’t ‘ good heavens ’ me, Spooner, it makes me nervous to have a person articu- 
lating in one’s ear like a woman. I have changed my mind — why should I not change 
my mind ? Miss Severn is a nice gurl.” 

“ Then, Frank, you may now marry her, if you like,” said Si^ George. 

“ And we have had all the bother of coming here for nothing, as far as regards you, 
Frank ? ” , 

Mr. Summers made each of these gentlemen a low bow, as if he assented to their 
remarks. 

“Not that she mentioned your name, or made a single inquiry as to where you were, 
Frank, this morning.” * 

“Naturally, she was thinking of Scruttles.” 

“ Don’t mention that beast.” 

“ No, for she was sufficiently collected to tell me a great deal about Colonel Erne-” 

“ Do not heed George, Frank ; propose to her the first opportunity.” 

“ Ah ! ” murmured Frank, “ too late ! too late 1 ” 


134 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


“ Don’t sigh so, my good fellow, you have almost blown me off my chair. Never giv« 
up ! Fight the flue liero ! ” 

“ But I feel very friendly towards him.” 

‘‘ The deuce, you do I Surely you will not let him carry off Miss Severn from under 
your very nose ? ” 

“ lie is welcome to do so if he can ; she must weigh about nine stone.” 

“Frank,” broke in the squire, “jmu are a hypocrite.” 

“ I was always truthful, until I came to Puff. I believe you were so good as to come 
here partly for my advantage ; I hope you are satisfied with the result.” 

“ My dear Frank,” said the squire, his kind heart quite touched, “ if we have inter- 
fered with your happiness, if in any way this expedition has cost you a pang, let me 
bear the blame — let me explain it all. I will say how unwilling you were to accompany 
us — how diligent you have been always looking out for the flag — how ” 

“We will do all that; yes, indeed, Frank, rely upon it, you shall have every assist- 
ance we can give. Miss Severn will not be worth having, if she can resist the tales wo 
can tell of you.” 

“Thanks, thanks, gentlemen; I feel — I know ’tis useless. So, Crabshawe, let me 
assist you to bed. While I am absent, my kind friends, pray mbralize a little upon the 
inconsistencies of the male sex. I do not think any woman of my acquaintance ever 
showed more than you have done, and each time actuated by the worthiest motives of 
humanity for my unworthy self.” 

“ Poor Frank,” said the squire, when he was gone, “what he says is true; we dragged 
him here to save him from Miss Severn, and now we are encouraging him to offer to 
her. How queer we are, Spooner ! ” 

“ True, squire, the regulative faculty of the human mind sometimes gets out of order. 
The conservative principle of memory becomes absorbed in the productiveness of sug- 
gestion, and thus we lose the corrective principle of reason or common sense.” 

The squire was in bed and snoring before Mr. Spooner had flnished his metaphys- 
ical definition of the reason why human beings were “ queer,” as propounded by the 
squire. 

When Frank and Sir George met to smoke that cigar, and have that chat, they were 
the only persons still out of bed at Puff. 

“Frank, I have had such a happy, such a delicious day, and yet it was not wholly 
without alloy.” 

“How?” 

“ Do you not see a change in Kate — Miss Daintree, I mean? ” 

“ I thought her looking prettier than ever.” 

“ Yes, she did ; positiveljq she has the loveliest color — oh! Frank, if she had been 
more severely burnt or scarred by that accident, what a thousand pities it wmuld haVe 
been I ” 

“ A million ! As it is, she is not in the least injured ! ” 

“ Do you think it was this narrow escape from a frightful death that has altered her 
so much ? ” 

“ You mean she was nervous and subdued? ” 

“Yes, instead of laughing and chatting, and being, as you know, a little saucy some- 
times, —all merriness of heart, Frank, she overflowed with exuberance of spirits, — 
not at all too much — it was all most feminine and lovely. Nov/, to-day she appeared 
so shy, so subdued, she blushed and paled at every word. And, Frank, do you know, 
though I tried as much as it was possible to get her alone, she would not see or under- 
stand my wishes.” 

“ I should think not; the truest, dearest, sweetest natures shrink from the inevitable 
moment of a confession of love I ” 

“You think she loves me ? ” 

“ I really cannot, dare not say. She gives me the impression of having lost her 
girlish freedom of heart. Something, I fancy, has opened to her a glimpse of that 
feeling which governs us all more or less, George ; and the deeper the perception, the 
more strongly will she feel.” 

“ Do you'thiuk so ? ” Ah ! Frank, if I thought, if I was sure — but at all events, one 
thing is indisputable — I have discovered the state of my own heart. At the moment 
when I heard of her narrow escape from a fearful death, I felt how insupportable this 
world would be to me without her.” 

“That is the true state to be in, George, when thinking seriously of matrimony. 
Let me congratulate you, not so much on the prospect of marriage, as that in a real, 
true fit of love, one loses the consciousness of self. We feel that we cannot ourselves 
make our own happiness, and we therefore trust another with it.” 

“ I understand you ; at present, had I only been able first to say one word to her, just 
to secure her, just to feel I had only to speak to clinch the matter, I should be full of 
happy, elevated, pure feelings — feelings which, though but slightly developed, seem 
to promise me extraordinary happiness.” 


135 


“luff it is.” 

“ A little suspense, George, will serve to test those feelings.” 

“ I am not accustomed to suspense; the fact is, Frank, do you know how Kate — 
Miss Daintree, got her burns ? ” 

“ Yes, through her desire to rescue some paper from the fire written by her friend.” 

“ Miss Severn — you do not seem to like mentioning her name, Frank. But don’t be 
down-hearted, my dear fellow. She has a good deal of spirit, and may perhaps be 
offended that you did not come with us ; but she is a sensible girl, and must know what 
a good fellow you are.” 

“ And you think Miss Daintree loves Miss Severn more than you, because she risked 
her life to save her paper? ” 

“No, Frank, not at all; but do you know what the paper was about? The Arctic 
regions, Frank! ” 

“ Why should that make you unhappy? ” 

“Because — because he admired her so; girls, you know, are easUy smitten with a 
sudden admiration. 

“But the admiral is married, my dear George ! ” 

“ Nonsense, Frank; I am speaking of his friend! ” 

“ Oh ! Colonel Erne ; what has he to do with the Arctic regions? Was not I to be 
angry at his attention to Miss Severn? ” 

“ I know nothing about that ; I only know this, that when the paper, that paper, was 
brought out for us to see and read, she blushed and trembled the whole time we were 
talking of these people.” 

“ Perhaps she was still nervous at her escape ! ” 

“ Not at all ! when they were reading it aloud, and describing how they suffered, and 
starved, I almost thought there were tears in her eyes.” 

“ She is naturally tender-hearted, and she blushes with every thought.” 

“ But she need not blush about whales, and walrusses, and blubber! ” 

“ Certainly not, considering she is not likely to be asked to dine on them.” 

“ I have a mind to go over to Luff to-morrow, Frank. If that fellow comes back I 
shall be certain to quarrel with him, unless ” 

“ Unless Miss Daintree was pledged to be the future Lady Follett.” 

“You are right, Frank. I do not care a farthing for the challenge. I think I shall 
go and confide my wishes to Mrs. Joscelyn.” 

“But you thereby endanger our chance of winning. No; be patient, George. 
Monday evening will soon be here.” 

“ I suppose I must acquiesce, though it is a confounded bore. I am nervously anx- 
ious to get the matter settled.” 

“It is a very good feeling, and will, I hope, increase.” 

“ If it does, it will be utterly impossible for me to wait.” 

“Well, since your sufferings are so severe, suppose w^e propose to the others to go 
to Exe church on Sunday? You may get an opportunity then, without endangering 
the loss of the challenge.” 

“A capital idea! If the others will not go, you and I can row over, by starting 
pretty early.” 

“I am not very keen about going myself; but if you cannot get one of the others to 
chaperon you, I will do violence to my feelings and accompany you.” 

“ Thanks, Frank ; I will say you are the truest friend ; and if your love matters don’t 
go as smoothly as mine, I shall pity Miss Severn — not you. She will never have such 
a chance again.” 

“You do me honor,” answered the polite and imperturbable Frank. “Good-night.” 

“ Good-night, though I feel as if I was utterly incapable of sleeping.” 

“ Determine to dream of Miss Daintree — and the thing is done.” 

From the above conversation it will be seen that our two young bachelors are much 
changed since we first had the pleasure of making their acquaintance. Sir George is 
absolutely smitten wdth something like the pangs of jealousy, while that chivalrous 
and devoted Frank has become indifferent, cynical, demoralized ! 

But Sir George was not the only person on the island of Puff suffering from the 
pangs of jealousy. 

Sam, after assisting Mr. Summers to put King Crab to bed, returned to the kitchen, 
but paused as he heard voices. 

Sam’s ideas of honor did not extend to that branch which enjoins the propriety of 
not listening to a private conference ; perhaps he had never heard the proverb bearing 
on the matter. 

On the contrary, he was stimulated to put his ear to the key-hole by hearing his own 
name, having previously peeped in, and seen the cook seated upon an empty barrel of 
beer, “ raposiding to liisself,” as Sam said to himself. 

“ Ha! ha! Samuel, my fine plush fellow, hu thinks has she have a hi to yer briches, 
but hi vill cock my cook’s cap agin you. Ho! Seusin, Seusin, you first-rate critter! 
You has a hi for hof a dinner has I never see hequaled ! If Seusin and me were jiued in 


136 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


wlioii, we ’oocl set liup a heating shop. We ’ood make a repertation, Seusin ; we’d go 
to Luimon, Seiisiii; we’d be sent for to coort, Seusin, to send hup her Madjesty’s 
privert dinners ! What a fortin we’d make ! I’d come Sworway, and ’ave the haris- 
tocrisy a-running hafter me and Seusin. We’d keep our carridge, Seusin, and ’ave a 
little willa hout of town; hu should ’ave a sating gownd, Seusin, and hi ’ood take yer 
to the hopera ! ” 

“ You take yourself hoff, you pertater peeler; and, mark me, if hi catches yer so 
much as winking at that theyre young woman, as his likely enough to be Mrs. Sam, I’ll 
pound yer with yer own mortar ! ” 

“You be blowed! ” answered the cook, valiantly; “ do yer think yer have a chance 
agin me ? ” 

“ Chance or none, come on. I’ll fight yer! ” 

“ I doesn’t fight wi’ menials I Hi ham ha hartist. Yu knows hu haint Sir George’s 
walet — yu his the hundermust feller. Sir George’s walet ’oodn’t demean hisself 
a-coming 'ere ! Do yer think has Mistress Seusin wull luik hat the loikes of yer ? ” 

“ Hi ’ave knowed Seusin a precious sight longer than you. I were brought hup with 
her hat Squire Joscclyn’s, and hif so be as Sir George did chose me to come with him, 
it were a honor, I tell ye. Sir George is a koiud master. He haint likely fur to furget 
has hi cumed with ’im when his own walet refused ! Talk of yer beggarly heating 
shop, hi shall ’ave a farm hunder Sir George, and Seusin shall be a farmer’s wife.” 

“Ho! that’s yer game, his it? — a pretty deal you knows of farming ! Hall yer 
knollidge lies in the calf line, hi ham thinking ! ” 

“ A pretty fool you’ll look at the hopera ! ” 

Thus did they recriminate, and for aught we know to the contrary, went on all night. 

It is no more than due to the ladies that this day, on which the gentlemen had met 
the ladies, under peculiar circumstances, after so long a separation, should be followed 
by a night, during which the “ Lords ” paid the “ Ladies ” the compliment of being 
unable to sleep for thinking of them. 


CHAPTER XVn. 

LUFF IT IS. 

You are not to suppose, my dear reader, that this eventful day was closed without 
the ladies also indulging themselves with a repertoire of all that had passed. No 
sooner were the gentlemen gone, than the “talkee talkee,” as the Chinese call it, 
began. 

Mrs. Spooner called upon all her companions to declare that they had never seen 
Augustus look so well. 

“The dear, manly fellow!” she babbled; “what splendid whisker she has! — and 
the new style of doing his hair is so becoming! Oh! Mrs. Joscelyn, when I think 
of all I have thought, when I remember all I have said, I am thoroughly disgusted 
with myself! He says he has not had a single happy moment since he left me.” 

“ I hope you told him the same.” 

“ Oh ! yes. I told him how I had desired to hoist the flag the very first day — how 
I had been so moped, making myself quite ill with anxiety about him, for fear he should 
wet his feet, or forget his flannel waistcoats ; and I showed him my stocking — the 
stocking I am knitting for him — and he was so surprised ! ‘ Did you, did you indeed, 

my darling Belle, knit all this yourself? ’ I thought you would not mind, dear Mrs. 
Joscelyn, my not telling him of the purling and plaining, and the taking in, and the 
heel?” 

“ Oh ! no, especially as now you must learn to do these parts of a stocking yourself, 
that Augustus may not be disappointed afterwards.” 

“ I will. I feel capable of making any exertion for him. We were both sorry you would 
keep to the whole month ; it seems such a weary time from now until Monday.” 

“ We must be very busy.” 

“ And besides, he was so alarmed by the fear of more pirates coming.” 

“Mrs. Joscelyn,” interrupted Clara, “I shall never again boast that a woman can 
defend herself. I have been quite alarmed at the strength of the two feelings that pre- 
vented me from using our two weapons of defence. I could not bear to see my dog 
hurt, and I shuddered so at the touch of that horrid man, I let go my revolver rather 
than endure it.” 

“ I can very well fancy both feelings ; but, by the by, who gave you your revolver? 

“ I did ! ” said Miss Kate, unblushingly. 

“ And how came you possessed of such a weapon? ” 


137 


“luff it is.” 

“ Gossip,” said Clara, severely, t’loiigli her face was suffhsed with blushes, “unsay that 
fib immediately ! Friendship uo doubt demands it, but honor forbids the sacrilege.” 

“We got it,” replied the little fibber, temporizing in the matter, “from the same 
person who gave us the flag.” 

“ Oh ! ” answered Mrs. Joscelyn ; and “ oh I ” was all she said. 

“ But it is all very well having a present of a revolver ; how did you know the way it 
is fired off*, Clara?” asked Mrs. Spooner. 

“ I was taught by Mr. Summers.” 

“ Oh ! I suppose some time ago, as I hardly saw you speak to him yesterday.” 

“We are on friendly terms ; you were so occupied with Mr. Spooner ” 

“ And who can wonder? Dear — dear fellow ! There is no one like him in the world 1 
And so clever, too ! Nobody knows what hoards of learning he conceals in his brain.” 

“ ’Tis a pity he conceals it.” 

“ Only because he so seldom finds a mind sufficiently clever to understand his — that 
is all. With me he will talk by the hour, and always on some new subject.” 

“I cannot help wondering how the gentlemen endured as a servant so dreadful a 
wretch as the head of those robbers ; they must have been very good-natured.” 

“ Augustus told me the man came to rob us out of re venge,*^ because they would not 
permit him to land at Puff. He waited until the boat came with stores, and then fol- 
lowed it very early the next morning. But he and his companions rowed so badly, they 
got to Kibble first. There they landed and rested, and, not thinking of the coast- 
guard, or that they should be interrupted by any one, took their time to come across 
to us, the distance being short.” 

“We had a most narrow escape. Half an hour earlier for the robbers, and half an 
hour later for the rescue, would have made all the difference.” 

“Susan’s poker was delightful; it gave me more confidence than anything else, for 
by it I perceived that in reality these men were cowards at heart.” 

“All people in the wrong are cowards, I think — they have to fight against right as 
well as might ; only desperate villains care for neither. Thus, this creature they call 
Scruttles was no man at all. He was an abject, miserable thief, and his chief weapon 
against us was our repugnance to his presence, while ours against him was Susan’s 
poker. He could not bear the common sting of a burn.” 

“ Fortunately we never said the world could do without men ; we only argued that, 
for a specified time, we could live very well without them.” 

So thus the ladies discoursed. No pangs of jealousy seemed to affiict them; on the 
contrary, watched by the coast-guard, conscious of the pleasure the gentlemen felt at 
being restored to their society, pleased with the different incidents of the day, which 
had redounded most to their credit and welfare, the ladies were in high good humor. 

Even Susan, alone in her kitchen, discoursed upon the events of the day, with a sweet 
temper and forbearance that would have surprised her acquaintance. 

“ Tiion ain’t a bad cook by no manes. And Sam isn’t overmuch airifled, considerin’. 
He is a’most ready to jump out of his skin, as the time is a-coming for us to be going. 
I mostly think it’s best to bear wi’ men, that one munnot be overborne wi’ such critters. 
It’s a most uncommon curous thing, that jealousy — cook was a’most forgetting of his 
stuffin’, all along o’ that fellow Samivel. Men is allers jealous of one another; they is 
like one dog a-choking wi’ puddin’, grabbing another dog’s bone ; he doesn’t want it, 
but t’other chap shannet hev it. 

“But they may snigger and fight. I respecs master, and if he be ever so hot, he 
niver goes from his promise I ’Tis binding as a law on him, whether for guid or bad, 
and that’s a comfort when one is a-dishing for dinner. But fur the rest of yer men- 
folk I doesn’t care, though I’ll not deny as cook has a genus for seasining has most folk 
takes no regard on. He’s -particklar to a pinch, and a-weighs his little consarns to a 
grain, and that’s a thing has desarves a good wurd, if one can say noffiii more of ’im ! 
It’s past me, the hodd ways of men — allers thinking of their loove matters, which 
mostly is a state for fullish folks, and thim as haven’t a varsel thing to do. Hum ! — 
hum ! we know a think or two, but we knows manners tew ; let me git home to my 
own kitching, and then we’ll see whose master?” 

Nobody sat up very late at Luff. Kuna was released from her kennel, and the doors 
and windows more carefully examined before they retired to rest. Everybody resorted 
to the expedient of leaving her bedroom door open, under the fallacious idea that it 
seemed as if they all slept together in one room. 

On Thursday morning they awoke, still full of excitement, which was not allayed by 
hearing voices calling them. Kunning out to see whom it could be, they found Sir 
George and Mr. Spooner at the landiiig-place, who came, as they said, as a matter of 
duty, to inquire after the health of the ladies. They were anxious to know if they had 
suffered at all from the frights and excitements of the day before. 

The queen of the island was under the necessity of being very severe, arbitrarily 
ordering these two encroachers to depart to their own dominions, which they did at 
last without landing, but much grumbling. 

18 


138 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


About three o’clock again they heard shouts — this time it was the squire and King 
Crab. 

Nothing would satisfy that amiable invalid but that he must have a row on the water ; 
Mrs. Joscelyn had ordered him to have as much fresh air as possible, and by some un- 
accountable means they had found themselves so near Luff, they thought it only their 
duty to call and say how fast King Crab was recovering. 

There was no difficulty in getting rid of them, the squire being of the same opinion 
as his wife, that they had no business there. 

On Friday no great event happened, but that Mrs. Spooner, hearing Bessie her les- 
sons while Mrs. Joscelyn was assisting Susan to make a sponge-cake, was overheard 
by Clara and Kate imparting knowledge to Bessie of a peculiar kind. 

The word “ trigonometry ” '-jhancing in one of Bessie’s lessons, that innocent young 
lady begged to be enlightened as to its meaning. 

“ Oh ! Bessie, you must not ask — it is a shocking word ! ” 

“ But if it is shocking how came it in my lesson-book? ” 

“ I cannot teli indeed, Bessie, my dear.” 

“ Is it shocking because it is long and hard? Or shocking because it is naughty and 
bad?” 

“ It means a most horrible thing, Bessie.” 

“ Oh ! is that all ! ” 

“ All ! Mind, Bessie, you never mention such a word to any one.” 

“Which advice Miss Bessie followed to the extent of asking Clara, as soon as she 
saw her, and gaining thereby a rather clearer account of the word “trigonometry” 
than Mrs. Spooner could give her. 

On Saturday they steadily packed up all day. 

On Sunday the boatmen came to say that once every month a clergyman did duty at 
Kibble, for the sake of the light-house people. The service was generally in the open 
air, if fine. Would the ladies like to go? 

The ladies fancied it much, and went, and were not disappointed in having done so. 

The day was beautifully bright and soft. There was something inexpressibly grand 
in hearing the solemn service of the Church, -with no lower vault than that of heaven 
itself; and the human voice, preaching the words of life, had no limit to its sound. It 
seemed to penetrate like a warning to the most distant ear, distinct above the murmur 
of the sea, unconfused by the echo of walls. 

That evening there fell upon the ladies a sort of silence — a gentle melancholy. Mrs. 
Spooner alone was a little fussy. She was continually packing the things she wanted 
at the last moment. But she was not wnthout some perception of this evening being 
the last scene of a drama they should never act again. 

In her restlessness she wandered into the kitchen, and found Susan in the same species 
of melancholy. 

“ Susan, you are crying.” 

“ I be, mum.” 

“ And for -what, Susan ? ” 

“After to-night, mum, there bean’t no more peace for me, not nowheres.” 

“ How do you mean, Susan? ” 

“ Well, mum, it’s not missusses as I complains on, or young missusses, or master, or 
the parlor company ; it’s sarvints theysels as aggrawates me.” 

“ Poor Susan ! Do tell Mrs. Joscelyn, and she will discharge them all, and get better 
ones.” 

“ There ain’t no better to be had. Sarvints is a ruined race ; they is a set of individ- 
dles as is the provokinest of critters. You carn’t please ’em — no, not if you was to 
roast and bile yerself to a hatony. They must live like theyre masters, and dress like 
theyre missusses, and ’ave the imperance of the hold fella as lives down below the cel- 
lars, with a tail he has ; one Muster Nicholas, as it ain’t manners for wommen folk to 
say his right neame. But dinno mind me, Mrs. Spooner, mum ; I’ll ’ave my bit cry, and 
then I’ll be a sight better.” 

“ Only think !” exclaimed Mrs. Spooner, returning to the saloon, “Susan is crying 
because we are going to leave Luff! But you all look rather melancholy.” 

“ I do not know that we are so melancholy, as that women are- rather like limpets, 
they get attached to places of which they have made a home. We may, perhaps, be 
thinking of what change fate has next in store for us.” 

As Mrs. Joscelyn said this, a quick gush of tears blinded Kate’s eyes, though an irre- 
pressible smile and blush accompanied them ; she hid all on her aunt’s shoulder, under 
pretence of kissing her; while over Clara’s face there stole a serene glow of happiness, 
that lighted her fair face with a beautiful hue and expression. As for Bessie, she was 
a little sulky. 

It has never been denied in this truthful story that Bessie was the least in the world 
spoilt. All the day she had been holding arguments with her mother as to the pro- 
priety and expediency of not going home to-morrow. 


139 


“luff it is.” 

“ Will you write to pa, and ask to stay another month?** 

“No.” 

“ Would she ask pa to let them all come back? ” 

“No.” 

Finally Bessie went off to Susan, as the only congenial soul on the island, and they 
comforted each other. 

Meantime the Queen of Luff thus addressed her subjects on the last evening of her 
reign. It was not after the usual fashion of a queen’s speech, for it began, — 

“My dears! — I do not like our party to break up without tendering you my best 
thanks for your happy companionship. I have b^en vastly happy, and I owe it in a 
great measure to you. I should not be worthy of being believed in this instance, if I 
did not allow that sometimes we have been a little dull. Do not deceive yourselves — 
we have been dull, all of us, in our several ways. But you never embarrassed me by 
complaints, or troubled me with murmurs. You fought your ennui with the best weap- 
ons at hand — work and determination. From the first I conjectured this would be 
our chief trial ; for our natures are not bad ones, we will hope, now that we have 
tested each other’s merits and foibles, by living together for a whole month. Though 
I have said we were dull, we have had adventures of so startling a nature, that it is prob- 
able we should never have met them had we stayed at home. 

“ Witness the coming of the ‘ Caiinibal,’ and the delightful consequences that followed, 
in our becoming acquainted with two distinguished heroes ; of other consequences, per- 
haps ’tis best to say nothing at present. 

“ Then we had our little amusements — of stories and history acting. We must not 
forget how God delivered us from a peril by fire, in which I am certain, had he permit- 
ted it to extend its ravages, it would have caused the destruction of more than one life, 
and destroyed the happiness of numbers ! 

“ We must not forget the storm. We must not forget those dreadful robbers, out of 
whose clutches we discovered we had no means to free ourselves, brave though we 
were for women, and had only just realized the pangs of our weakness, -when we were 
delivered. It is fortunate that we did not separate ourselves from our natural pro- 
tectors on the plea that we were independent of them. We merely said, as became 
women, that we could better endure the loss of their society than they could ours. 
Thus we shall not be twitted on' our utter helplessness — all but Susan’s red-hot poker 
on that occasion ! 

“ Also let us remember the lessons of human woe, of suffering, of heroic virtue, of 
noble fortitude, taught us in the church-yard of Exe. 

“ And now I will revert, just for a moment, to the real origin, to the primary cause 
that made me accept the gentlemen’s challenge. You will remember it arose out of a 
desire I had to put an end to certain attentions that coupled the names of two ‘ lords ’ 
with two ‘ ladies.’ I hope you understand me. I am not often disturbed in mind, but 
a habit is growing among young men of the present day, to single out a young lady, to 
mark her to the world by his attentions, and then to withdraw, saying he meant nothing 
but friendship. I feared this fate for two of my subjects ! 

“ In thinking over the probable effect of my scheme for our seclusion, I can only say 
that the freaks of fortune are endless. Time alone will show if I did right, but at pres- 
ent I can dream of nothing but wedding-cake — I appear always to be inhaling the 
pei’fume of orange flowers ; I see rings and favors growing out of the flames of the fire, 
and I am even fearful lest my little Bessie should come to me and say she is going to be 
married. 

“ And now, my dears, for a little advice. If my dreams, my omens, my convictions 
come true, don’t prelume upon the wealth of love offered for your acceptance. Eemem- 
ber Luff, and liow we were only dull there because the zest for our usual employments 
was wanting — women do not like working for themselves only. Also do not forget 
how it was proved to us that we must have some one on whom to lean, to trust. Strong- 
minded women there are, who may scoff at us, but to me there is no sight more lovely 
than the graceful ivy clinging to the mighty oak. And one last word about the chal- 
lenge. If we win it, do not let us forget that we were very fortunate in the company 
of each other. No queen had ever more obedient subjects. May I hope she merited 
that obedience ? So now, having reviewed our position, and considered everything that 
has occurred to us, let me once more thank you for your love and amiability.” 

Thus spoke the Queen of Luff to her subjects on the last evening of their stay there. 

They kissed and thanked her a thousand times, and responded to all her kind words 
fourfold. As for Mrs. Spooner, in the excitement of the moment, and the conscious- 
ness of Mrs. Joscelyn’s worth, she forgot herself altogether, except saying that was she 
ever inclined to be discontented, angry, foolish, she would remember how their queen 
beguiled her to be happy, industrious, contented, and sensible. 

Of this latter virtue Mrs. Spooner would have benefited by receiving a large dose. 
But nature interferes in doling out this commodity to the human race. Nevertheless, 
experience is sometimes good enough to repair nature’s partiality. It is fair to presume 


140 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


that the female A. S. was so fortunate as to make experience her friend. At least, from 
what she is now saying to the girls, we may infer so. 

“ You have no idea what a difference it makes, girls, to one’s comfort having a hus- 
band. All his goings and comings, his ins and his outs, his pains and his pleasures, are 
as interesting to you as to him. Then it is so nice always to have some one to refer to 
— to confide in, to run to, to be interested in all you do and say. That is what made 
me so dull here — I missed all this so much — I was almost, as it were, single again. 
I do not express myself very well, but I thank the Almighty that since I came here I 
have learnt what a wife is, or ought to be, to her husband.” 

Now, during all this speechifying, and confiding, and repenting, never one word said 
Clara. She pulled Runa first by one ear, and then the other. Once or twice she took 
the same little liberty with Runa’s tail. Mrs. Joscelyn looked at her often, but obtained 
neither look nor sign. 

And now we must forever bid farewell to the “ ladies ” ; when next we see them, they 
will be the ordinary mortals found in every part of her Majesty’s dominions, whose ac- 
quaintance we made just one month ago. 

Thursday, as we know, the “ lords ” passed a good deal of their time rowing about on 
the water. Friday, they began to pack up, and the squire performed his part so thor- 
oughly, that he was obliged to unpack his Sunday suit, for our gentlemen had all made 
up their minds to go to Exe church. « 

They had a very natural curiosity regarding its tombs and gravestones. Even 
Captain Crabshawe said he would not miss seeing that church and church-yard for any- 
thing. This worthy gentleman’s health was so fully re-established, that he never looked 
better in his life. 

To be sure, that is not saying much, for under no circumstances could he have ever 
looked so that people might regard him with complacency. 

However, now he is looking better than usual. There is a sparkle in his eye, an 
eagerness in his manner, that quite amazes his subjects. 

Moreover, he has written three letters — one addressed to a tailor, another to a boot- 
maker, and a third to the person who is supposed to do the duty of mother to him ; and 
he was most particular in sending these by the Thursday boat. 

It was on Saturday evening, that, finding himself -alone with Frank, that tlie following 
conversation took place : — 

“ Miss Severn is a nice gurl, Frank.” 

“ So I think jmu said before.” 

“ It is a pity you have quarrelled with her.” 

“ It would be a pity if I had.” 

“ Now, Frank, my dear boy, I have a regard for you. I told you before that I did 
not think Miss Severn would suit you; she has a spirit — she would be too much for 
you.” 

“Really!” 

“ Yes, you ought to have a nice little quiet gurl. Now, Miss Severn should be wed 
to a man of pluck and resolution, and good age ; a man who knows how to govern. 
Has she any money ? ’i 

“ In her purse, now ” 

“ Tut 1 — in the bank ; any fortune, 1 mean.*' 

“ I do not know.” 

“ And yet you thought of marrying her ! ” 

“ Crab 1 you monster I a faint hope crossed my mind, as to whether she would permit 
me to ask her to marry me.” 

“ It’s all the same thing in the end, but surely you were prudent enough to make in- 
quiries as to whether she had enough of her own, to pay her own expenses.” 

“ No. When I am so fortunate as to have a wife, I hope to be able to provide her 
with all she fancies.” 

“ That may be all very well for you, who have a fortin’ of your own; but you see, 
unless she brings something to a poor man, she is a very expensive luxury.” 

“ Of what luxury are you talking? ” asked Sir George, just coming in. 

“ Crab is talking of the luxury of a wife.” 

“ No ! how much do you rate her at. Crab ? ” 

“lam only advising Frank — he is so thoughtless ! I tell him he ought to take care 
his wife has one or two hundred a year, to pay her own expenses.” 

“ One or two hundred a year ! — I doubt if that is enough for my wife’s dress,” re- 
sponded Sir George. 

“ Then she is a fool I ” retorted the captain. 

“Who?” 

“ Your wife.” 

“ Captain Crabshawe, you shall answer to me for this insult.” 

“ Stop, stop, my dear George, do not be angry; you have no wife yet,” interposed 


141 


“luff it is.” 

“ He has insulted her — all the same as if I had.” 

“ This is too ridiC7ilous ! I have a mind to let you fight it out; only pray recollect 
that Lady Follett would naturally dress very differently to Mrs. Crabshawe. The latter 
would do her marketing in a cotton dress, while the former would be rolling by in her 
carriage, clothed in satin and ermine. Mrs. Crabshawe would be cheapening alpacas, 
while Lady Follett was selecting her velvets.” 

“Very true, Frank; I was a fool to notice the fellow’s words.” 

“ Fellow, indeed ! Sir George Follett.” 

“ I beg your pardon. Captain Crabshawe ; let us have no more words.” 

King Crab accepted the apology with a clumsy grace. It was fortunate there were 
but two days more for these two to spend together at Puff. As it was, they only kept 
the peace by speaking no more to each other beyond the barest words. 

Saturday was the dullest and most uncomfortable day they each had ever experienced. 
They all seemed possessed by tlie Demon of Unrest. 

On Sunday they were all lively again, and started betimes for Exe church. But they 
were longer going across the bay than they expected, and heard the church-bells ring- 
ing some time before they arrived ; and they altogether ceased just as they were with- 
in a hundred yards of the shore. 

But they reached the strangers’ pew in Exe church in the middle of the Psalms, 
thanks to the manner in which the Exe pSalmists sang the morning hymn. 

They were some minutes in church before the fact presented itself clearly to the 
minds of one or two who looked for them, that there were no ladies in church ! 

The squire, of course, was not one of these ; he was properly saying his prayers. 
Only on coming out of church did he remark, — 

“ Where did ray wife sit? ” 

“ They are not in church, squire ; they may be ill,” said Spooner. 

“ It may be as well that we should go and inquire,” continued King Crab. “ As Mrs. 
Joscclyn cured me of my illness, it is no more than right that I should attend to her, if 
she is ill.” 

King Crab as a nurse, did not present to their mental vision a single qualification for 
the post ; on the contrary, had they not been in the church-yard, the notion would 
have been received with bursts of laughter. 

“ I am not in the least anxious about her health,” said the squire; “as she would 
naturally send to me at once, if she was ill.” 

“ But some of the others may be so.” 

“ Of course they would send also, Spooner. Now that I am here, I mean to look at 
the tombstones.” 

The squire had not gone half the round of the church-yard, before Sir George came 
eagerly to him, and said, — 

“ The ladies are gone to Kibble ! One Sunday in every month a clergyman goes there 
to do duty. I propose that we go there too.” 

“Very good; lam your man — but, George, what a melancholy place this is! My 
heart is quite sore for all these poor people.” 

“ I never allow myself to be melancholy, squire, if I can help it.” 

“ I believe it is very good for one to be made to feel. I am a sad, hasty fellow, and 
always speak before I think. I never refiect on all the sorrow and misery that is 
going on in the world, as long as everything is right with myself.” 

“ Why should you, squire ? Everybody has his own worries and troubles.” 

“ But'l have none in comparison of these ; and I am no better than they were. See 
here, now — read this stone. A wife and seven children, the youngest a baby six 
weeks old. — all drowned I and the husband was saved, and puts up the tablet to their 
memory — why, George, where is that man? He must have died of grief.” 

“ I do not think so ; I dare say he is alive and merry, and married again.” 

“ I believe some people are very heartless. I am sure I am; but I would not do 
that. Ha ! I am right. See, George, here is his name on the cross at the foot of the grave. 
He did not survive them six months. I am glad of that. They are all now in heaven 
together, please God.” 

The squire’s ideas of a future life were founded solely upon the instincts of his own 
kind heart. So absorbed was he in examining the records of the graves, that they had 
some dilnculty in getting him away. 

“It is a drive of eleven miles from Rampton round by the bay to Exe — I shall 
bring Elizabeth over now and then; I think it will be good for me.” 

When the gentlemen arrived at Kibble, they found the ladies had gone home I 

There was a little dispute as to whether they should pass by Luff and hail them, or 
whether they should go straight home to Puff. 

“ The ladies are all well, and we are within three miles of Puff; whereas, If we go 
the way round to Luff, it will make it six.” ^ 

Common sense carried the day ; they went home. 


142 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


No feelings oppressed the gentleman on this their last evening, as had jppressed tho 
ladies. They experienced nothing but a strong fit of fidgets. 

An excellent dinner and the last bottles of champagne opened their hearts a little. 

“ I don’t regret coming to Pulf,” quoth the squire, “though I cannot help feeling 
glad this is our last evening here.” 

“lam sick of the place,” exclaimed Sir George. 

“ I must say an absence from a happy domestic hearth, only urges one to rush back 
to it more eagerly.” 

“ Now there is no denying that, upon hearing these several sentiments expressed by 
his subjects. King Crab had a right to grumble, just a little. It was not altogether 
quite civil to the monarch of the Puff realms. 

Perhaps a slight remonstance, a courteous sort of deprecating apology, would have 
turned these different opinions into a genial flow of kindly remarks, regarding the 
trouble their king had taken to govern them well and pleasantly. 

“ But that personage was possessed of neither tact nor wisdom. He said at once, 
and boldly, — 

“ If I had had a different set of fellows to deal with, matters would have turned out 
very differently. I should have been asked to remain another month.” 

“'l think your observation unjust. I desire to be told why you think so.” 

The words of the squire were no great things, but the manner in which they were 
uttered was simply stupendous. No lion of the forest ever growled in deeper wrath. 
King Crab was not dismayed. 

“ None of you has ever had any heart in the life. You are all too fine. One was al- 
ways thinking of his dinner, another of his clothes — all wanting his own particular 

whims and fancies to be done, just as if you were a parcel of — of ” 

“ Of women,” suggested Prank. 

“ I might say women, but, upon my soul, I don’t think it is doing them justice to say 
so.” 

“ Since when have you made this notable discovery? ” 

“ That evening we spent at Luff; they were all so merry, and happy, and contented.'’ 
“I wish to know,” broke in the squire, whose sense of justice was becoming every 
moment more outraged, “why you made that uncalled-for remark about us? What 
have we — what have I done to merit it ? ” 

Never had Mrs. Joscelyn aroused the nerve Opiniatum into such startling energy as 
King Crab had achieved by that ungracious speech of his. 

“ Tut ! tut ! don’t let us quarrel the last evening.” 

“ I have no intention that way, but I will have an answer.” 

And the squire regarded the captain with the stern and unwavering gaze which has 
the quality of awing the enemy at once. 

“ I meant nothing, squire — nothing more than you are not exactly the right sort of 
people to rough it — to lead this life, you know.” 

“ Have I complained more than 5murself?” 

“ Well, no, squire — certainly not.” 

“ I have blacked my own shoes, cleaned my own gun, made my own bed, and helped 
to cook the dinner. 

“Very true, squire — all very true ; no one could do more, I am sure.” 

“And Spooner?” 

“ Spooner has been very good too — Spooner has roughed it better than I expected ! ” 
“ And George? ” 

“Do not fight for me, squire, pray; or Sam. I rather glory in hating the whole 
thing. If Crabshawe has a mind to say I and my servant spoilt the whole party, he is 
very welcome.” 

“ I do not say anything of the sort. I merely contrasted my lot of people with Mrs. 
Joscelyn’s — that is all. I never saw a more happy and contented set than hers. And, 

Frank ! now, I acknowledge at once, squire, that Frank is a fellow ” 

“ Pardon me, for interrupting you,” said Frank, “ I feel like the squire, very sore on 
the matter of your accusation. Nothing that you can say to me now in praise will do 
away with the impression in my mind — which is, that you would have been happier 
had the ‘ Ladies ’ been your subjects, rather than the ‘ Lords.’ ” 

“ ]\Iy dear fellow, probably there I should not have had my illness.” 

“Had the ladies been our companions, and not the gentlemen, you would have been 
contented.” 

“ I don’t deny, Frank ” 

“ ]\Iake him say it, squire.” 

“ Say at once,” said that lion, “ you would rather have governed them than us.” 

“I have no doubt I should have got on very well with them. They seemed, you 
know, so — so ” 

“ I do not care what they seemed to you, but if you meant nothing by your insultln" 
speech to us, except to compliment my wife and party, I will forgive you. But as for 


PUFP^ AND LUFF, 


143 


forgetting, that is quite another thing. I am for doing my duty as well as I can., but if 
the Almighty has given me a memory, it is not my fault if it recollects who made a foo^ 
of me.” 

“ Good Lord ! how hot you are, squire. I have no intention of making fools of any of 
you. I am still a little nervous from my illness, and my mind has been greatly upset 
by the end of all my endeavors to reclaim that unfortunate Scruttles.” 

“ Unfortunate God forgive me for putting myself into this passion, and to-day 

of all days, when I have been taking myself to task for my many sins ; ashamed that I 
should be so unworthy of all the gifts God has bestowed on me, with such freedom 
from the sorrows of which I read so many records ta-day. But that tcllo^v haunts me 
like a nightmare. By the by, when his trial comes on, we shall know his right name. 
That is something.” 

And consoled with this idea, the squire cooled down. 

Thus the last evening of the “ Lords ” did not resemble the last evening of the 
“ Ladies.” 

There was no speech from the throne, received with cheers, and indorsed with cor- 
dial acclamation. History has recorded many instances of the disorganization, ruin, 
and devastation of a kingdom badly governed. ' 

Without contrasting the ruler of Puff with Charles the First, James the Second, and 
other worthies of that stamp, it is but fair to his subjects to own, that if they lose the 
challenge — if they are triumphed over by the ladies — if they have to eat “humble pie” 
they owe their defeat entirely to the unconstitutional conduct of their King Crab. 


CHAPTER XVni. 

PUFF AND LUFF ! 

The morning broke as mornings will, regardless of any other laws than those of 
nature, gloomy and weeping. 

But it did not appear that either “ Lords ” or “ Ladies ” were going to be controlled 
by the weather, whatever freaks it chose to enact. 

Writers and readers are both gifted wit^h double sight ; or, in other words, they are 
allowed peeps behind the curtain, by which means they can see all the villany hatching 
in the villain’s heart, while to every one else he appears a miracle of goodness ! Thus, 
you and I my dear reader, are enabled, through this power, to cast our eyes at one and 
the same moment on both Puff and Luflf. On both are to be seen all the signs of a busy, 
nay, happy time. There is not a sad face on cither island ! 

The squire is making a vast deal of row at Puff! Mrs. Spooner is in no end of a bus- 
tle at Luff. Captain Crabshawe is enunciating his final orders, with all the importance 
belonging to the last efibrt of power. 

Mrs. Joscelyn is bringing to light all sorts of forgets, and recommending all kinds of 
ways of packing. For, most astonishing to relate, cither hurried, or indifierent, or that 
they really have increased, the same packages that brought their things will not take 

them back! . , . -x- . 

Thanks to the “ excellent convict,” the gentlemen are in no such predicament. :Not- 
withstanding the constant locking of their doors, it is remarkable the prodigious gaps 
in their wardrobes, now they are collecting their things. Fortunately they stumbled 
upon one of the amiable creature’s hiding-places, by which means Sam recovered two 
of his master’s shirts, some of his own private property, a waistcoat of the squire’s, 
who would not touch it, the missing sweetbreads, once so beautifully larded, with sun- 
dry other eatables, the odor of which led to the discovery of all. 

*Sir George, not having much to do, sauntered down to the sea-shore to watch for 
the boat coming to Puff. 

Miss Daintree, having entrusted her packing to Clara (we see), also strolls down, 
apparently to ^vatch the waves ; but she is looking far away, even to the most distant 
horizon, Avherc there certainly is a puffing of smoke. 

At precisely the same moment the Puffs and Luffs go to breakfast on their respective 

Just as the squire says, “ We will be off as soon as the boat comes,” :Mrs. Joscelyn 
remarks, “ That she would wish to be early at home, to see that everything was nicely 
arranged for the evening’s entertainment.” . , . 

Mr Frank Summers propounds he had better wait until the last boat, in order to see 
that everything is brought away. At that moment Miss Severn asks Mrs. Joscelyn if 
she shall remain with Susan to do the same thing. 


144 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


The squire «ives a sort of fillip to his teaspoon, as he sajrs, “ I shall have my darling 
little Bessie again,” just as Bessie says to her mother, “ Won’t pa be glad to see us? ” 

Bessie’s ideas of the importance of the female sex are boundless — the consequence 
of her papa’s spoiling, and the deference of her two brothers. 

Breakfast being over, an extraordinary circumstance occurs to both islands. Sir 
George rushes in to say a boat is coming — not their boat, but another, and there is a 
policeman on board. It arrives with summonses for Messrs. Joscelyn and Spooner, 
together with Sir George Follett, Bart., and Samuel Meekes, his footman, to appear as 
witnesses against James Scuffy, Jonah Scuffy, and James Scuffy, Junior. 

“ God bless my soul ! ” exclaimed the squire, who only used this exclamation on ex- 
traordinary occasions; “he is Jem himself — I protest Scruttles is his own Jem; look 
here — look here, there can be no mistake ! ” 

While they eagerly looked and scanned the papers, the policeman, imperturbably con- 
scious of his own dignity, regards none of these things, but touches his hat to Sir 
George, and says, — 

“ The witnesses his to return with me. Sir George ; the magustrates takes the case in 
hand — twelve o’clock.” 

“ To-day ! — this very day ? lam ready — all ready ! Come, George — come. Spoon 
— no more time, we must not keep the magistrates waiting! When I see that rascal, 
won’t I shout in his ear, Jem ! — Jem ! Scurry I ” 

“ James Scuffy,” repeated the dignified policeman, touching his hat to the squire. 

The squire was halfway down to the boat, when he bethought him of all the amiable 
ideas that he had had in his head while dressing — how he would be ready at the little 
dock to greet his Lizzy ; how he would welcome her home ; how he would tell her no 
place was home to him without her, &c., &c. He ran back to charge Frank with all 
sorts of messages to her, which that good fellow, he was sure, would faithfully deliver. 

“ But,” said Frank, will not she be summoned also? ” 

“God bless my soul!” exclaimed the squire, for the second time in less than ten 
minutes, “ of course 1 ” 

He ran back to the boat, and asked the question. 

“ The ladies, Mr. Joscelyn,” replied the dignified policeman, touching his hat, “ are 
not summoned to-day. The magistrates,” he continued, “ mean to make out a case for 
conviction upon the testimony of the gentlemen. If it is necessary to summon the 
ladies, they will be summoned.” 

“ I take that very kind of old Barker — he wishes to spare the ladies, if possible. I 
shall send old Barker the next salmon I hook.” 

“Provided you land him, squire.” 

Thus the law, so powerful, interfered, and prevented on the part of the Puffs, that 
triumphant and jocund landing, which they had pictured to themselves as the finale of 
the month of probation. 

The day had recovered from its early fit of sulks, and was now condescending to bless 
the world with blue sky and cheery sunshine. 

“ What vessel is that? ” said Sir George, as they landed, and were about getting into 
the carriage that was to take them to the court. 

Nobody knew. But we do, dear reader. This is the vessel that is about to create 
the extrordinary sensation at Luff. At least. Miss Daintree is running for her life up 
to the house, exclaiming, “ She comes! — she comes!” Then, as was fitting, every 
Luflite runs out to see with her own eyes, and assure herself, and say to herself “ She 
comes ! ” » 

Now don’t imagine this is the great two-fUnnelled “ Cannibal ” — it is nothing of the 
sort. As it approaches, it presents the beautiful appearance of a pleasure yacht — a 
screw. 

She steams into the bay like a swan, and sweeps round to her anchorage with the 
ease and grace of a race-horse. Before she was well settled in her place, a boat was 
lowered, and made its way straight to Luff. There was no policeman onboard. 

What took place on the island of Luff, upon the landing of that boat has never been 
recorded. 

Meantime, King Crab, now within a short space of being shorn of his crown, as he 
is already shorn of half his subjects, makes a prosaic landing with Frank, with the 
cook, with the cook’s kitchen-maid, and all their worldly goods, at the little dock, 
about twelve o’clock. 

“ Othello’s occupation gone,” he feels a little depressed. 

“We had better go somewhere and get a snack, Frank, as I suppose no one is at 
home at Deep-Cliffs.” 

“ I intend staying here to deliver the squire’s messages,” answered Frank. 

“ What here ! — at the dock ? ” 

“ Yes ; we all meet again, you know, at dinner.” 

“ True — that reminds me I must be off.” 

“ Drop my things as you go by, will you, at my house? ” 


PUFF AND LUFF. 


145 


Witlioiit a farewell or other word, the whilom king and his last subject parted. 

No sooner was Captain Crabshawe out of sight, the cart packed with all the things, 
and sent off to Deep-Cliffs, to return again for the ladies’ things, than Mr. Frank takes 
off his coat, loosens his braces, steps into the squire’s private little sculling boat, and 
departs over the water. 

Had any one been sufficiently interested in his movements to watch him, they would 
have seen him making his way to Luff. 

And now we approach the time when, once more, as at the opening of our story, Mrs. 
Joscelyn’s drawing-room is filled with the same people assembled for dinner. The 
squire, radiant and jovial, was a sight to see. What with being once more at home — 
king over himself and all around him, conscious that he might say and do anything 
he pleased, overflowing with hospitable feelings, pleased with himself, delighted with 
his wife, and doting on little Bessie — he hardly knew how to contain himself. 

As for Mr. Spooner, hanging over the chair of his Arabella, inspiration seemed at last 
to have condescended to visit him — he was so animated, so happy in his remarks, so 
energetic, so full of bonhomie — one might have supposed a bit of the squire’s exuber- 
ance of spirit had got into his brain. 

Ilis Arabella, beautifully dressed in white, almost bridal, looked at him, and admired 
with all the fondness of their bridal days. 

Sir George had an anxious, fidgety air. 

Frank was altogether in that sort of state that may be expressed by the word 
sublime. 

It was Spooner’s word; he had clapped Frank on the back, overcome with joviality, 
and had said, “ Frank, you look sublime ! ” 

Whether a countenance glowing with supremest happiness bordered upon the sub- 
lime, is not for us to say. 

But how are we to do justice to the appearance of Captain Crabshawe? We have 
used up the word sublime, and must go and seek for others to express the dazzling ef- 
fect he produced. 

Captain Crabshawe was arrayed in an evening suit of black, cut after the fashion, and 
with all the improvements of the latest build of evening dress. His waistcoat was 
white, and his tie was white, and excellently tied. What was seen of his shirt, proved 
that it was a first-rate shirt, delicately embroidered, and was fastened with studs. His 
continuations were' so admirably arranged, that they gave him quite a pair of gentle- 
manly legs, which were terminated by black silk stockings and patent leather pumps. 
Had any one failed to notice these two elegant articles of dress, the admiration of the 
captain for them could not fail to draw the look of the inattentive to them. He was 
perpetually thrusting out first one foot and then the other, surveying them in every pos- 
sible attitude, and apparently delighted with the effect of each. • 

In addition to being so beautifully dressed, the few hairs that time had left him, 
seemed to have taken umbrage at their hitherto straight walk of life, and absolutely 
reposed on his cranium in circular attitudes, elegantly disposed in careless grace. His 
hands were remarkably clean, and as if proud of the unusual occurrence, he flourished, 
first in one and then in the other, a large pocket-handkerchief, plentifully diluted with 
bouquet de jockey club. 

There are men of weak organization who, in permitting their psychological structure 
to overpower their corporeal frame, have felt nervous, perhaps bashful, in assuming all 
at once, without preparing their friends, a character wholly opposite to that they have 
always borne. 

But Captain Crabshawe had a mind as strong as the Egyptian sphinx, who has 
remained for so many ages calmly gazing at nothing. 

It had hitherto been his pleasure to enact the part, and appear in the 'dress of a 
game-keeper; it was now his pleasure to be a beau; and in clothing himself in beau 
garments, he also adopted beau manners. 

He entered the room with a jaunty air; he bowed over Mrs. Joscelyn’s hand as if 
he was Sir Charles Grandison, and he flung himself into a chair by Miss Severn with 
the ardent eagerness of a lover, assuming a supercilious air of pity for “ Poor Frank,” 
as he mentally said. 

The squire, having already told almost everybody by themselves, is now narrating to 
the whole company together the interesting particulars of the trial of Scruttles. 

“I do not know why I fancied he was his own Jem, but something possessed me 
with the idea that he was so. I w'ould have paid anybody ten pounds for the news, I 
was so glad. And that is his mother — your old friend, Crab” (here Mrs. Joscelyn 
turned pale w'ith fright, lest the squire, off his balance with an intoxication of happi- 
ness, should reveal a secret that he had told her — name'ly, that Scruttles’s mother -was 
Captain Crabshawe’s foster-mother. Nobody had ventured, even in a whisper, to sup- 
pose they were foster-brothers. It was charitably concluded there was ten years 
between them. But the squire was to be tiaisted) ; “and James Scufly, junior. Esq., 


146 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


Is his son and heir, and Jonah Scurry — Scuffy, I mean — is uncle, or father, or brother 
— I did not care to And out. 

“ How the fellow lied, and how it came out that all his life he lied, and how that 
even his own family were frightened of him ! ‘ Our Jem,’ says Mrs. Scurry — Scufiy, I 
mean — ‘ our Jem never stops hat nothink. I be glad to think he be a-prison.’ ” 

“ ‘ With that I went, Scruttles,’ says I, and the fellow shook his fist at me in first- 
rate style. ‘You will never get out again, Jem Scruttles,’ said I — ‘this is your last 
turn.’ Upon my word, the fellow rather pleased me — he showed himself such a true 
villain, I felt inclined ” 

“ To give him another five shillings, squire,” 

“No, Spooner — I felt inclined to tell him I respected him a great deal more in his 
true colors than when he was that odious, fawning, beastly hypocrite. lie would have 
had a free pardon in Australia for betraying his companions, had it not been for the 
attempt to'inurder old dad — not that it was dad at all — it was a convict Avith whom 
he had quarrelled over some little trifle on board ship. I could not hear anything of 
Jude and Sal, which, I suppose, is just as well. And Jem, the younger, was not alto- 
gether sure that Scruttles was his father. ‘ His mother told him so, but indeed he 
didn’t knoAV hisself.’ 

“I asked his mother’s name. ‘He worn’t sure at all; he called her mother, and 
sometimes the neighbors called her big Bet.’ Same name as you, Lizzy,” continued 
the squire, glancing at his wife with high admiration. “ But here is dinner — sort 
yourselves, my good friends ; don’t think me rude, ladies, but I must take my wife.” 

The A. S.’s folloAved, happy as love-birds. The captain seized upon Miss Severn, as 
by the right of a conqueror. Kate put her arm within Frank’s, whether he would or 
no, so Sir George was fain to content himself Avith Bessie. The dinner was excellent 
and noisy. 

“ Do let us enjoy ourselves,” remonstrated the squire, as some one spoke about the 
challenge be — “ we Avill settle that afi'air afterAvards.” 

So they ate and drank, laughed and chatted, with the highest delight. 

The squire contradicted everything Crab said, and Crab exercised the same courtesy 
towards the squire, and neither lost their good humor — the latter entertaining Miss 
Severn with all sorts of Crab jokes betAveeh whiles. 

Sir George contrived to sit next to Kate, but as it was absolutely impossible to propose 
to her at the dinner-table, he only gave her to understand, in every other way, that she 
might expect him to do so the first opportunity. 

That she was gentle, bashful, and blushing, only made him the more eager for the 
happy moment. 

The dinner over, the servants withdrawn, the hour of reckoning, if it might be so 
called, came on. 

“ Which had Avon the challenge ? ” 

“ Of the gentlemen, it may be said they allowed and disalloAved; they confessed and 
retracted; they gave in and took back — at one moment they all agreed they had 
never been so happy — the next it was a miracle how they bore it. 

It was evident that the gentlemen Avere anxious to be the Avinners. 

“ I conclude,” said Mrs. Joscclyn, “ from all you have said, that, on the whole, you 
have spent this month pretty much as if Ave had all been at home. You haA’^e had a 
mixture of good and bad ; you have had sunshine and shade ; your dull times and 
happy times — all this might have occurred here. But without reference to the chal- 
lenge, I Avish to knoAv one thing. Has your sojourn at Pufi* so far softened your 
feelings toAvards me that I may request you not to smoke in my dining-room, without 
running the chance of ofiending you? ” 

“You may — we Avere Avrong ; we acknowledge that, in this matter, you had more 
reason to be angry than Ave had. In fact,” added the truthful squire, “ I do not know 
what possessed me to turn my dining-room into a pot-house.” 

“ I thank you most sincerely, gentlemen, for your assurances ; and to show you that 
the ladies are neither bigoted nor arbitrary in the matter of smoking itself (only the 
place, my good friends), pray accept a present from each of us — I need not say they 
are the Avork of our oavu hands, and sufficed to while away some of the hours that 
passed a little heavUy, wanting your society.” 

As Mrs. Joscelyn uttered these kindly Avords, Bessie presented a cigar-case to her 
father, Mrs. Joscelyn one to Sir George, Kate to Captain Crabshawe, Clara to Frank, 
the female A. S. to the male A. S. They were all beautifully worked, and embroidered 
^vith the names of the different gentlemen. 

It is not to be told the effect of this graceful act of the “ Ladies ” upon the “ Lords.” 
They Avere OA'erAAdielmed Avith gratitude, with admiration, with remorse, one after 
another, in very strong fits. Having alloAved a certain time to elapse for the expres- 
sion of all these feelings, once more Mrs. Joscelyn said, — 

“ But Avho has Avon the challenge? ” 

“There are the journals,” said Mr. Spooner. 


PUFF AND LUFF. 


147 


‘ But who is to judge the journals ? ” 

“ Will you allow me to do so ? ” said a voice at the door. 

Every gentleman turned round. There was the famous admiral, accompanied by 
Colonel Erne. 

“ Here are our cards of in station, squire, permitting us to come a little before the 
Eampton world.” 

“I am delighted!” roared the squire, “delighted! Yours is the screw yacht, 
admiral, that came into the bay this morning. Sit down ! — sit down ! — welcome, 
welcome, colonel ! I could not think who she was. I was so occupied with the trial 
of that beast Scruttles, I forgot to ask. This is the happiest event of the whole day. 
Judge ! — of course you shall be judge. None of us would desire a better.” 

It is needless to say that the admiral and his friend met with as hearty a reception 
as if they had just emerged out of a four years’ imprisonment in an iceberg. Though 
why the little rose-bud should have blushed so violently at an elderly little admiral 
(however famous) shaking hands with her so warmly, and sitting down by her in such 
a comfortable, fatherly manner, is a thing we must leave to philosophers, such as 
Spooner, to explain. 

“ We have dined, thank you,” answered the admiral to the squire’s hospitable offers: 

“ we have brought white gloves and dancing-shoes — we mean to distinguish ourselves ; 
but meanwhile, ‘ who has won the challenge ? ’ ” 

“ That we cannot settle. It is agreed that our visit to Luff, on Crabshaw’s account, 
Ls to be set against the hoisting of the ladies’ flag when attacked by robbers.” 

“ But did you not start first for assistance ? ” 

“ Eor that matter, we agreed to go to Luff the night before.” 

“ Then perhaps you will be gallant enough to give the ladies this advantage.” 

“ But,” said Mr. Spooner, rising and forgetting altogether the cigar-cases and all his 
gratitude, fearing for nothing but the loss of the cliallenge, “ I have heard — a rumor 

has reached me ” (Mrs. S. began to pull his coat-tails, and blushed deeply at the 

prospect of being proved a traitor in the female camp), “injustice to my friends, 
Arabella, you must allow me to state, that though the ladies suffered no gentlemen to 
land at Luff, they permitted themselves to be rowed about for many days together by 
a gentleman.” 

“No! no! really! that was too bad ! Of course the ladies will lose the challenge, 
if it is true.” 

“It is true,” answered Mrs. Joscelyn to all these exclamations; “but silence for 
one moment. Have I your permission, John, to divulge ? ” 

“ Oh! hang it, yes, Lizzy; divulge whatever you like.” 

But a slight blush also rose to the squire’s cheek. 

“ It is true, for a few days a gentleman called at Luff and took some of us out in his 
boat, but then, gentlemen, did you not spend a whole Sunday at Hampton, dining at 
Muggs’s ? ” 

There was a dead silence, broken at last by the admiral. 

“ You must again compromise — put the one thing against the other.” 

“ But who has won the challenge ? ” 

“ Nobody.” 

“ It is clear,” said the admiral, “ that this famous challenge is what sportsmen call a 
dead heat. The only thing to be done is to run it over again.” 

“No! oh! no! no! never!” 

It was curious the chorus of emphatic negatives and protests that followed this , 
remark.” 

“ I shall have to examine each witness separately,^’ said the admiral, laughing until 
the tears ran from his eyes. “ Or rather,” continued he, “ those that are for another 
trial, hold up their hands.” 

Not even a little finger was visible. 

“ Those that are satisfied neither to win nor lose, hold up their hands.” 

There was an instantaneous display, the A. S.'s each holding up both, and, strange 
to say, so did the whilom King of Puff. 

“ Then let it be so,” said the admiral, “and a very proper conclusion to the chal- 
lenge. I hope the gentlemen will not forget the amiability of the ladies in allowing 
that they missed them ; as for the gentlemen, I should be ashamed of my countrymen 
if they did not, and glory in the admission, too.” 

“ We saved Frank! ” exclaimed Captain Crabshawe, emphatically. 

In fact, just as the admiral was speaking, the captain caught a glance that Frank sent 
straight to Miss Severn — a glance so full of love, of happiness, of triumph, that, 
amazed at the audacity of it, knowing, as Frank must know by this time. Captain Crab- 
shawe’s private intentions, he was irresistibly impelled to say what he did. 

“From what, my dear Crab?” replied Frank, with the most imperturbable counte- 
nance. 

“ From marrying 1 ” 


148 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


Here the admiral burst into such flts of laughter, he nearly rolled off his chair. 

Frank rose up, steadfastly regarding the PuIHtes with a charming and benign smile. 

“ If, my dear Puffs,” said he, “ you banished yourselves from the society of the ladies 
for my sake, it was labor lost. I went with you, already engaged to be married.” 

The hubbub was tremendous — part upbraiding, part commending. As soon as the 
noise ceased he continued, — 

“ Having the permission of my fiancee (glancing at Clara, who frankly gave him her 
hand) to p%claim our engagement, I only waited a favorable moment to demand from 
you those hcartv congratulations, without which I scarcely feel my bliss complete, I 
have to thank you, my dear Crabshawe, for affording me this opportunity.” 

“ Frank, you are a hypocrite ! ” growled that worthy in his ear. 

“ Try Miss Daintree,” whispered Frank back again. 

Before the felicitations were over, the hint was taken. 

“ Frank,” said the squire, “ how close you kept your secret I If I remember right, 
you told a — j'ou said it was too late ! ” 

“You will allow, squire, that when a thing is already done, it is too late to do it.” 

“ A subterfuge, Frank, which, in my opinion, is more than ” 

“ Hush, John, let Frank finish what he has to say.” 

“ Go on, Frank.” 

“ Admiral — squire — gentlemen — when a man sees opening before him a glimpse of 
that paradise our much respected forefather Adam lived in, it is not likely that he will 
lose the chance of securing an entrance into it. Adam, as we know, lost paradise 
through devotion to his companion. The angels, melted by the nobleness of the deed, 
brought ever and ever constant petitions to the Footstool of the Throne of Heaven for 
permission for Adam’s descendants to create their own paradise. In virtue of this 
grace, seeing the opening of a paradise before me, I essayed to win the gate. Just one 
month, four days, thirteen hours, and so many minutes, at the moment when you, 
Crabshawe, were flirting with Miss Daintree on the settee, I placed my heart, my hopes, 
my happiness in the hands of my dearest Clara. She accepted all, giving me her love 
in return, and her promise that, within a month after our trial, we should summon Puffs 
and Luffs to our wedding. AYe agreed to keep the matter secret, from all but one per- 
son ; and it was through fear lest I should betray myself that I refused to accompany 
you to Luff on that memorable morning. To you, dear Mrs. Joscelyu, I owe more than 
I can express, not only for your warm sympathy, your love and fondness for my in- 
tended wife (though who can help loving her?), but because I feel sure that it is to 
your example as a wife, that I owe Clara’s willing consent to be mine. The beautiful 
and lovely character of wife and mother, shone with such radiance in the house of 
Squire Joscelyn, that few girls could witness the sight without longing to imitate it. 
As for me, when possessed of my paradise, I know it will be my own fault if I lose it. 
During the long hours that we spent at Puff, none felt cither weary or dull to me, for I 
spent the time in endeavoring to make myself worthy to have an angel for my wife ; 
and life itself will be scarcely long enough for me to thank God for the gift of her.” 

Frank sat down, glowing with love and happiness, by his intended bride, overwhelmed 
W’itli plaudits and congratulations. 

Mrs. Spooner sobbed aloud, her feelings deeply moved. 

The admiral felt it necessary to shake hands with everybody near him. 

Put the company were arriving. 

Fast and furious was heard the rattling of the carriages ; loud and sonorous the an- 
nouncement of the visitors. Everybody that had the slightest pretence to come, came. 

Dancing began at once. Between whiles was incessant talking, incessant congratu- 
lations, and an infinitude of questions regarding the challenge, which subject lost a 
good deal of its interest when it was found to be a “ drawn battle.” 

As for sayiug that the admiral had spent his best days in the Arctic circle, and had 
worked so hard there he had no more work left in him, they should have seen him 
dance, they should have seen him making everybody else dance. He enjoyed himself 
with an enthusiasm that was quite admirable. Famous as he had been battling against 
ice and snow, bears and famine, he was making himself equally famous, dancing, laugh- 
ing, and joking, at Squire Joscelyn’s ball. 

“ Frank ! Frank,” murmured a sad voice in his ear, “ do you see that ? ” 

“ I do,” answered Frank, his happy face turning as grave as it could, for the sake of 
his friend George. 

“ She will not dhnee with me, though she allows she is not engaged.” 

“ She is wise, George — it is for your good ; cannot you see this yourself? ” 

“ It is impossible I will not believe it. I merely wish her to know that I am only 
waiting the opportunity to ask her to accept everything I possess ! AVill you tell her?” 

“No, my dear George, I dare not. Dismiss all thoughts of her ftom your mind; she 
has a younger sister — prettier, more like Mrs. JoscelynJ ” 

“ Oh ! Frank, in your own happiness you forget my misery! ” 

“ Frank ! — Frank? ” said another voice ; “ do come here ! ” 


PUFF AND LUFF. 


149 


‘‘ Well, Crab, what is it? ” 

“I carn’t think what has got over the wimmen; when one wants to be civil, they 
won’t let one ! ” 

“ Who has offended you? ” 

“ Miss Daintree won’t even look at me, and that fellow, that Colonel Erne, is always 
whispering in her ear. I have a mind to eat his head off I ” 

“ Do, Crab, and see what will become of it.” 

“Frank, you are all right yourself, and you don’t care for other folks’ feelings I ” 
“Pray excuse me, but do you mean to say you are thinking of offering to Miss 
Daintree? ” 

“Why not?” 

“ Then it is useless, my having any feeling for you; I was only in joke when I said, 
* Try Miss Daintree ! ’ ” 

“ Why should it be a joke ? ” 

“ Because you would do for her grandfather, rather than her husband I ” 

Aware of the audacity of this speech, Frank fled for his life after saying it, and took 
refuge behind Miss Severn’s crinoline. 

From that fortification he saw the forlorn Sir George holding a colloquy with an 
equally forlorn Sam ; he felt sure George was ordering his carriage, and Sam was some- 
how delighted it was ordered. 

Meantime, the admiral, finding this was to be the last dance before supper, went to 
secure his favorite partner. Miss Bessie. 

“ Oh, yes. Sir Admiral! ” exclaimed Bessie, delighted. 

“And yet, Bessie, you refused me,” said a languishing voice. 

“ Because you only asked me, for no one else would dance with you ! ” 

And Miss Bessie skipped away, as if a gorilla was about to claim her for a partner. 
“It did not seem to me, little Bessie,” said the admiral, as they took their places, 
“ that you were very civil to the captain.” 

“ Oh ! Sir Admiral, he had made me very angry. He asked me how old I was ; and 
when I told him, he gave a great sort of sigh like a frog would, and said, ‘ Eight long 
years, Bessie, before I can offer you my hand and heart.’ ‘ I do not want either,’ I said. 

‘ Oh ^ you will think very differently at that age, pretty Bessie 1 ’ and I answered, 
‘Don’t call me names. Captain Crabshawe, because mamma does not allow people to do 
so ! ’ ‘ People ! my dear Bessie, I am very different ! ’ ‘I won’t be deared by you, 
sir ! ’ I said ; and then luckily. Sir Admiral, you came and rescued me ! ” 

“ Well, Bessie, as far as I can see, you appear to have had an offer. He paid you a 
great compliment ! ” 

“ A compliment ! Oh ! no, he was very insulting, I thought, asking a lady’s age ! ” 

“ But he offered you his hand and his heart? ” 

“ I would not touch his hand for anything ; and as for his heart, Kate says he has none ! 
Oh ! Sir Admiral, if you will please to forgive my saying so, I hate him 1 ” 

“I suppose I must excuse you, especially as we are now all going in to supper. I 
have a little business to do after supper, Bessie, so let us make haste and get good 
places ! ” 

And this was the admiral’s business. 

•The healths of the engaged couple having been proposed and drank with the greatest 
enthusiasm, and Frank, having returned thanks in a manner worthy of the occasion 
and his prospects, the admiral now rose up, and charged them to fill their glasses again. 

Now, the Hampton world not only delighted to see so famous an admiral in the same 
room, but, highly gratified at his dancing and amusing himself just as if he was a mere 
mortal like themselves, were so overcome at his condescension in rising to make a 
speech, and giving them such a cheery order to fill their glasses, that they rapped the 
table and made such vocal demonstrations of approbation, that there was no possibili- 
ty of a single word of what he said being heard, unless he had been privately gifted 
with the screech of a railway engine. 

So he prudently waited until there was a lull. 

Of course the moment he opened his mouth they began ; but at last, roared into si- 
lence by the squire, a calm ensued. 

“ Gentlemen and Ladies, — I desire to take this opportunity of thanking the Puffs 
and Luffs for affording me a vast deal of amusement ; laughing is good physic, for all 
diseases, and though, thank God, I have none, a hearty laugh does me a world of 
good.” 

Here the admiral paused for a moment ; it seemed by the expression of his counte- 
nance as if there had been times with him when death met him face to fiice daily, and 
laughter was unseemly. It appeared as if he paused to thank God that such trial was 
over. 

“ You may think, ladies and gentlemen, that, being a sailor, I have no experience in 
the female character; but I have so much that, had no robbers attacked their island, — 
robbers of two sorts, you will please to remember, robbers of pui’ses, and robbers of 


150 


LORDS AND LADIES. 


hearts, — they would certainly have gained the victory. And is there a man amongst 
us who would have done otherwise than rejoice? (Cheers.) 

“ But, in truth, my good friends, though this challenge was apparently a frolic, it 
was the means of a good end. Our Puffs and Luffs, doubtless, thought the whole affair 
a lark, as we sailors love to call it ; but all the time it was Fate — it was pre-ordained. 
The Almighty looks down upon us all, and arranges our affairs with unerring wisdom. 
He saw two hearts so formed for each other, that he issued the command, ‘ Let them 
meet ! ’ They did meet. The famous challenge introduced them to each other. 

“ Ladies and gentlemen, you have drank the healths of Mr. Summers and his intended 
bride ; I now call upon you to drink the health of my dear friend. Colonel Erne, and his 
future wife. Miss Daiutree, your health and a thousand good wishes — Erne, yours. 
Squire, give the time for a good British cheer, an accomplishment that no other nation 
but England can perform — a hearty cheer — because this famous challenge, though 
caused by, has not ended in 


Smoke I ** 


EDMUND 


YATES’ NOVELS. 


BROKEN TO HARNESS. 

Neat Paper Covers. Price, 75 Cts. Handsome Cloth. Price, $1.50. 

“A rare old English story, piquant, racy, and pathetic; full of active life, energetic 
expression, and nice discernment. It is truer to life than any book we have seen pub- 
lished for many a day. The characters are just such quaint mixtures of good and bad 
as we are constantly meeting. 

“ IBavhiira (the young lady that was ‘Broken to Harness’), glorious in spite of 
faults, floats before us with her majestic grace, half blamed, half pitied. 

And strangest, truest, and best drawn character of all, rare Kate Mellon, the Horse 
Trainer, ill-bred, but noble, loving, and great-hearted, whom we honor more the farther 
we read, who becomes more of an actuality at every page ; who, in death, was so brave 
and kind. 

“ The book is full of fine delineations. The style is dashing, free and easy, singularly 
bold in the conversations, never coarse, never unnaturaliy or falsely delicate. Here, 
for once, is a book where people talk naturally, and much does it add to its sprightliness 
and charm. 

“ It will be a long while before another book so full of good things will appear.” 

■ ♦ ' 

RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. 


Neat Paper Covers.. Price, 75 Cts. Handsome Cloth. Price, $1.50. 

“Edmund Yates may now be ranked among the first writers of fiction of the age. 
‘ Broken to Harness ’ was one of the most original and natural stories of modern fiction ; 
and ‘ Running the Gauntlet,’ in many respects, is a stronger and better book. 

“It is the same in style, in dialogue, in insight; but in plot and incident it is as 
different as we could wish. The story is one very common to life, and the heroine. Lady 
Mitford, is one of those pure and noble creatures we meet only too seldom. Mr. Yates, 
while concentrating our interest on his hero and heroine, gives us a scarcely less degree 
of interest in his subordinate characters. In the description of those charming resorts. 
Clubs, Mr. Yates certainly does carry off the palm. 

“ He succeeds where it is often the most difficult to succeed in the depicting of ordi- 
nary lives, the developing of every-day characters. The last interview of Sir Lawrence 
Alsager and Lady Mitford, where ‘ Love and Duty ’ are discussed, is one of the 
finest chapters ive ever read, 

“ Such a novel is an illustrated treatise on metaphysics, and gives us more knowl- 
edge of the human mind than could whole volumes on the ‘ Emotions.’ With the great- 
est delight, then, must all lovers of good books welcome this new Author, paying him 
the tribute which he demands with every line he writes, — the tribute of careful study 
and consequent appreciation.” 


THE FORLORN HOPE. 


Neat Paper Covers. Price, 50 Cts. 

The London Athenwum says : — 

“Though the ‘Forlorn Hope ’ will not be so widely popular as ‘Broken to 
Harness,’ wc have no hesitation in recording our opinion, that this contains more good 
work, and gives higher promise of future achievements than any of his other novels. 

“ Foremost amongst the good qualities of the book are the cleverness and freedom 
from exaggeration with which the numerous characters are put upon the canvas ; and 
prominent amongst its good points is a position so impressibly dramatic and pathetically 
suggestive, that the author will doubtless experience the qualified pleasure of seeing it 
speedily reproduced, without acknowledgment, by playwrights and younger novelists. 

“ The story opens in the Highlands of Scotland, at the seat of a wealthy proprietor, 
Kilsyth, of Kilsyth, and the interest of the sequel depends mainly upon Madeline Kil- 
syth’s relations with Dr. Wilmot, a rising London physician, who is making a holiday in 
North Britain, when he is abruptly summoned to Kilsyth, to attend the Laird’s lovely 
daughter in a severe attack of scarlatina. 

“ Prose fiction seldom gives anything more truthful or more delicately touched, than 
Mr. Yates’s picture of the closing intercourse of Dr. Wilmot with Madeline.” 

“Broken to Harness,” “Running the Gauntlet,” and the “Forlorn Hope,” will be 
read and re-read by every lover of English fiction. 


FLORENCE MARRYAT’S NOVELS. 




FLORENCE MARRYAT is the daughter of the great novelist, Captain Maruyat, 
whose name is a “household word” the world over, and whoso memory is dear to all 
who appreciate Avell-told tales of tlirilling adventure. 

Florence Marryat has added new lustre to the name, and to-day commands the 
largest number of readers of any English female novelist. 

EACH NOVEL IS SOLD FOR 50 CENTS. 

1. Love’s Conflict. 

“ He jests at scars who never felt a wound.” 

2. Too Good for Him, 

“ A perfect woman, nobly planned. 

To warn, to suffer, and command.” 

3. Woman against Woman. 

L For Ever and Ever. 

“ He asked Life of Thee, and Thou gavest it him. 

Even length of days for ever and ever.” 

3. The Confessions of Gerald Estcourt. 

“ The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices 
Make instruments to scourge us.” 

G. Nelly Hvoolze* A homely Story. 

“ Love is strong as death.” 

7 . The Girls of Feversham. 

8. Veronique. A Romance. 

“ Man’s love is of man’s life a thing apart, 

’Tis woman’s whole existence.” 

9. Petronel. (A Novel.) 


Edition after edition of these Novels has been called for in this country. 

} lie London “ Saturday Review” says : “ We are further than ever from the belief 
that ‘ genius is not hereditary.’” 

Florence Marryat is now well known to the reading world as the author of nine 
well-written novels. They are extremely well-developed fictions, and well worth the 
time employed in reading them. They are distinct stories, without parallelism, having 
nothing in common but their style. naviug 

MApvAT possesses great talent and great power of expression ; power to pic- 
ture to our nnnds the conceptions which occupy her own. Her style is graphic, nervous, 
Itlnlic merits IS the still greater one of progressiveness. She never 

stands still ; every step is an advance, every succeeding story better than the last. 

We earnestly commend them to all Travellers. 


Loriii^’s Railway Novels. 


75 Cent Books, 


RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. 

By EDMUND YATES. 

EDMUND YATES may now be ranked among the first of writers of fiction of 
the age. “ Broken to Harness,” is one of the most original and natural stories of 
modern fiction ; and “ Running the Gauntlet,” in many respects is a stronger work. 

With the greatest delight, then, must all lovers of good books welcome this new 
Author, paying him the tribute of careful study, and consequent appreciation. 

BROKEN TO HARNESS. 

By EDMUND YATES. 

“A rare old English story, piquant, racy, and pathetic ; full of active life, energetic 
expression, and nice discernment. It is truer to life than any book we have seen 
published for many a day. 

“ The book is full of tine delineations. The style is dashing, free and easy, singular- 
ly bold in the conversations, never coarse, never unnaturally or falsely delicate. 
It will be a long while before another book so full of good things will appear.” 

VICTORY DEANE. 

By CECIL GRIFFITH. A very powerful Novel, with very strongly-tlrawn 
characters, that interest you at the outset, and keep your attention riveted to the end. 
Stronger contrasts are rarely brought together, passions are aroused that are seldom 
stirred, and the whole Novel is very remarkable. 

THE DEERINGS OF MEDBURY. 

By VIKGINIA F. TOWNSEND. 

“ The Deerings of Medbury,’’ will prove the most successful book yet issued from 
the brain of this, favorite author. 

It is a truly stirring story, written in a style that leaves nothing to be desired for 
simplicity, elegance, and impressiveness. Miss Townsend has never tlrawn a charac- 
ter equal to Hollis Deering, the heroine of this story, either in nobility of conception, 
or vividness of portrayal. 

She has outdone herself in this picture of a grand, noble, clear-sighted, strong, 
and enthusiastic young woman, free from self-consciousness, and untrammelled by 
the frivolity and narrowness of conventional life. 

With her magnetic touches, scenes and cliaracters become real to you, and haunt 
your memory strangely. 

$1.00 Books, 

THE MILLS OF TUXBURY. 

By VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND. “ A book of great power and pathos, and one 
which, if you begin to read at nightfall, will be likely to make you very late to bed, 
as you cannot possibly lay it down till it is Western Rural. 

“ We can assure novel-readers, that they may buy this one, without fear of disap- 
pointment . — Henry Ward Beecher's Christain Union. 

THE HOLLANDS. 

By VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND. 

“ A very pure, sweet book — a violet among the passion-flowers of mo*lern roman 
It is refreshing to lay hold of a story by a woman, in which the heroes are not biga- 
mists or blackguards, nor the heroines pillars of erotic tire, ever moving in a whirlwind. 
The stylo is uncommonly simple, direct, and strong. We are glad to be able to say, 
that an American woman has produced a Novel so strictly local in color, and quite 
equalling the best productions of modern English lady writers.” — N. Y. Jour. Commerce. 


Loriiijy’s Railway Novels. 


$1.00 Books. 


F. Townweiicl’w IVew INovel, 


SIX IN ALL. 

MISS TOWNSEND never stood so high, as an author, as at this moment. 

This is her Best Book. 

The same successful elements enter into this, as in her previous novels. The char- 
acters are attractive, strongly drawn, admirably handled. With her magnetic touches, 
scenes and characters become real to you, and hauiit your memory strangely. 

PIQUE. 

\ . 

A Tale of the English Aristocracy. 

Not in the least “ sen.sational *’ — but amusing, pleasantly written, and engros.‘<iiig. 

Tlie characters being higli-bred men and women, are charming companions for an 
hour’s solitude,, and one puts the book aside regretfully, even as one closes the eyes 
on a delicious vision. 


MAINSTONE’S HOUSEKEEPER. 

By MISS ELIZ.\ METE YARD, (Silveri.en. ) 

A fresh, vigorous, powerful story of English Country life, with a plot that is man- 
aged with great skill, and a surprise kei»t constantly ahead. 

The heroine — Charlotte, the housekeeper — is one of the finest characters ever drawn. 
As a whole, for beauty of style and tliction, passionate earnestness, efiective ctav-*' 
trusts, distinctness of plot, uidty and completeness, this Novel is without a rival. 


SIMPLICITY AND FASCINATION. 

]iy ANNE NEAL. 

It is not often that such a sound, yet readable English novel, is republished in 
America. There is neither a prosy page nor a sensational chapter in it. 

Too much cannot be said in prai.se of “ Simplicity and Fascination.” 


THE QUEEN OF THE COUNTY. 

Of all the books republished this season, this is the best. 

An old lady, beautiful with the spirit’s youth which never passes by,” sits down 
by our side and tells us the story ctf her life. She gives us an autobiography, without 
calling it such, an<l best of all. without apologizing for it. She points no moral ; she 
has too much delicacy for that. She speaks of the beauty of her youth, without vanity 
or false modesty, as of any beautiful work of her Creator. She deems the frank trust- 
tulness of youth, one ot life’s least follies. She pours out with her recollections, all the 
sweetness and loveliness of a glorious soul, and with no thought that she does so. 

hor humor, geniality, ease of diction, and delineation of character, it deserves a 
high place. 


ROBERT FALCONER* 

By GEORGE MACDONALD, LL.D. 

” We doubt it any right-minded man can read this story, and not be a better man.” 

— 'Fhe New York Independent. 











